DOCTOR   YANDYKE 


A     NOVEL. 


BY 


JOHN"    ESTEIST    COOKE, 

ATJTHOE  OF  "THE  VIBGINIA  COMEDIANS,"     "STJEBY    OP   EAGLE'S  NEST,"  ETC. 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


NEW  YORK: 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY, 

549    &   551    BEOADWAY. 

1872. 


ENTERED,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872, 

BY  D.  APPLETON  &  CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


. 


DOCTOR   VANDYKE. 


THE    DOCTOR. 

A  MAN  was  sitting  in  a  house  on  Glou 
cester  Street,  in  Williamsburg,  Virginia, 
about  a  hundred  years  ago,  busy  at  a 
very  singular  employment. 

In  this  lower  world  the  inner  charac 
ter  of  men  and  things  connects  itself  so 
mysteriously  with  their  outward  appear 
ance,  that  a  pen-and-ink  sketch  is  de 
sirable  of  the  room  in  which  the  person 
age  we  have  introduced  was  sitting,  and 
of  the  personage  himself. 

It  was  the  front  apartment  of  a  small 
house,  standing  somewhat  back  from  the 
street,  in  the  midst  of  a  small  garden, 
given  up  chiefly  to  flowers ;  and,  as  the 
season  was  autumn,  the  borders  burned 
with  prince's  -  feathers,  asters,  yellow 
primroses,  and  late  geraniums.  You  ap 
proached  by  a  gravel-walk,  mounted  two 
stone  steps,  entered  by  a  heavy  door,  or 
namented  with  an  enormous  brass  lock, 
and,  passing  through  an  inner  door  on 
the  right,  found  yourself  in  the  apart 
ment  mentioned.  It  was  half  sitting- 
room,  half  laboratory.  A  thick  carpet, 
with  lozenge-shaped  figures  of  black  and 
red  alternately,  covered  the  floor,  and 
some  old,  high  -  backed  chairs  rested 
against  the  dingy  walls.  In  one  corner 
was  a  walnut-wood  bookcase,  containing 
an  array  of  volumes,  chiefly  upon  medi 


cal  subjects,  and  these  had  overflowed 
upon  the  chairs  and  the  carpet.  On  the 
tall  mantel-piece  were  jars,  phials,  re 
torts,  and  bones.  It  was  plain  that  phys 
iology  was  a  favorite  study  of  the  owner 
of  the  mansion ;  and  specimens  of  the 
master-worm,  man,  in  every  stage  of  his 
physical  development,  from  the  embryo 
to  the  skeleton,  dangling  its  legs  and 
arms,  and  grinning  frightfully,  met  the 
eye  on  every  hand. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  a 
long  table,  covered  with  machines  and 
retorts.  Beside  it,  poring,  with  knit 
brows,  over  a  large  leather-bound  vol 
ume,  and  looking,  from  moment  to  mo 
ment,  at  a  white  rabbit  under  a  glass 
cover,  sat  the  master  of  the  establish 
ment. 

He  was  an  altogether  singular  person 
age — a  sort  of  cut-off  giant,  scarcely  five 
feet  in  height,  with  an  enormous  chest, 
broad  and  powerful  shoulders,  and  long 
arms,  ending  in  immense  hands.  Here, 
however,  the  Herculean  character  of  the 
strange  figure  terminated.  An  impotent 
conclusion  ensued.  The  legs  were  actual 
pipe-stems,  so  slender  were  they;  and 
their  tenuity  was  exaggerated  by  the  enor 
mous  size  of  the  feet,  reposing  in  mighty 
buckled  shoes.  The  costume  of  this 
personage  consisted  of  heavy  silk  stock 
ings,  knee-breeches  of  drab  cloth,  a  long 
waistcoat  reaching  nearly  to  the  knees, 
and  buttoned  up  to  the  throat;  and  a 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


species  of  overcoat  with  a  cape  attached, 
capacious  flapped  pockets,  and  skirts  so 
long  that  they  reached  down  to  the 
wearer's  heels.  Neck,  this  outre,  figure 
had  none,  apparently.  The  huge  head, 
half  covered  by  long,  gray  elf-locks,  rose 
abruptly  from  the  shoulders,  and  the  face 
was  on  a  par  with  the  torso.  The  eyes 
were  dark,  piercing,  and  seemed  to  burn 
with  cynical  fire  under  the  bushy,  gray 
eyebrows.  The  nose  was  long  and  prom 
inent;  the  mouth  wide,  with  thin,  com 
pressed  lips,  and  a  sardonic,  almost  sneer 
ing  expression.  From  time  to  time  the 
personage  uttered  a  sort  of  grunt,  agree 
ably  alternating  with  a  growl  resembling 
that  of  a  wolf  disturbed  while  tearing 
his  food. 

He  closed  the  book,  and  raised  the 
glass  cover,  beneath  which  was  stretched 
the  body  of  the  rabbit — a  white  one  of 
the  English  species. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  in  a  vibrating  and 
metallic  voice,  "he  is  dead,  after  all,  I 
think.  The  formula  was  wrong.  To  be 
certain,  however." 

He  took  the  white  rabbit,  and,  open 
ing  the  window,  placed  it  upon  the  sill 
in  the  fresh  air.  For  ten  minutes  he  re 
mained  looking  attentively  at  it.  No 
movement  indicated  life. 

"  Humph  !  "  he  said ;  "  yes,  this  time 
he's  dead.  Decidedly  the  formula  was 
wrong.  And  yet — it  is  my  dream,  per 
chance,  but  no — this  is  not  a  chimera. 
And,  if  not— " 

He  looked  toward  the  skeleton,  and, 
shaking  his  fist  at  it,  exclaimed,  in  grim 
and  triumphant  tones : 

"I  cannot  conquer  you,  King  Death! 
My  science  is  powerless  in  face  of  your 
strength — you  are  master  !  But  I  do  not 
yield ;  I  can  fight  you,  drive  you  back ; 
and,  if  not  checkmate  you,  can  sometimes 
tear  your  prey  from  your  grasp  !  If  I  find 
what  I  seek  now,  I  triumph  ! — and  I  will 
find  it ! — Yes,  the  formula  was  wrong — 
there  is  a  better — yonder!  " 

And,  crossing  the  room  with  hasty 


strides,  he  took  down  a  heavy  volume 
from  the  bookcase.  As  he  did  so,  there 
fell  from  the  shelf,  where  it  had  been 
concealed  behind  the  volume,  a  small 
white  glove,  with  a  bow  of  blue  ribbon 
affixed  to  the  wrist — only  the  delicate 
fabric,  once  snow-white,  was  discolored 
by  age,  and  the  ribbon-knot  was  faded. 

The  eccentric  personage  picked  up 
the  glove  and  looked  at  it.  An  expres 
sion  of  wonder  had  replaced  the  stern 
glance. 

"  This  here  !  "  he  muttered—"  not 
crumbled  and  gone  to  dust  like  all 
else?" 

He  remained  perfectly  motionless  for 
a  long  time,  looking  at  the  glove,  upon 
which  a  ray  of  the  autumn  sunshine  fell, 
through  the  window.  An  expression  of 
sadness,  almost  of  tenderness,  had  come 
to  the  deep-set  eyes  now,  and  the  thin 
lips. 

"I  thought  that  was  all  done  for — 
that  business  I  "  he  muttered  ;  "and  yet 
here  it  is ! — a  ghost  out  of  the  past. — 
What  a  fool  I  am  ! — The  roses  are  as 
faded  as  the  blue  of  this  ribbon  ;  and 
the  woman — she  has  forgotten  !  " 

The  pathetic  expression  had  already 
disappeared,  and  the  sardonic  smile  came 
back. 

"  Here  I  am,  dreaming  over  a  wom 
an's  glove  !  "  he  muttered  ;  "  the  old 
squat  dwarf,  with  his  patients  to  look 
after!  I'll  cease  this  fooling! — go  back 
to  your  hiding-place,  ghost !  "  he  said, 
replacing  the  glove  behind  the  books; 
"  I'll  never  summon  you  again  or  look  at 
her,  unless  she  calls  me.  *  Send  to  me 
if  you  are  in  trouble,'  I  said  to  her,  '  and 
I'll  come,  day  or  night.'  I'll  do  that — 
but  she  shall  send  for  me  first." 

Muttering  to  himself,  he  went  back 
with  his  book  to  the  table ;  at  the  mo 
ment,  a  clock  in  the  adjoining  room 
struck  the  hour  of  noon. 

"  Well,  here's  the  morning  wasted, 
and  I  must  go  to  the  governor,"  he  said, 
closing  his  book.—"  Snuffers!  " 


A  FALL  FROM   HORSEBACK. 


This  cabalistic  word  died  away,  anc 

was  then  repeated  in  a  louder  tone  : 

"  Snuffers !  " 

"  Very  well,  Dr.  Vandyke  !  "  a  voice 

said  from  the  next  room  ;    "  there's  no 

use  bawling  at  me — I'm  coming." 

The  door  opened,  and  an  old  woman 
of  short  stature,  rotund  person,  and  ruddy 
face,  appeared,  her  white  head-kercliief 
extending  backward  in  the  shape  of  a 
sugar-loaf. 

"Most  excellent  Mrs.  Snuffers,"  said 
Dr.  Vandyke,  with  his  satirical  smile, 
"will  you  be  so  obliging  as  to  inform 
any  person  who  calls  to  see  me  that  I 
have  gone  to  the  governor's  ?  " 

"  And  when  will  you  be  back?  " 
"I  am  unable  to  say,  madam." 
Thereat  the  elderly  lady  looked  pecul 
iarly  irate. 

"  And  how  am  I  to  know  when  you 
will   want  your  dinner,  Dr..  Vandyke? 
How  am  I  to  take  care  of  you,  and  act  as 
a  Christian  woman  by  you,  when  here, 
just  as  I  am  getting  ready  to  put  the 
dinner  on  the  table,  you  go  flying  off!  " 
Dr.  Vandyke  glared  at  his  enemy. 
"Dinner?  "he  said. 
"  Dinner !  "    retorted  the    foe,   in  a 
loud  voice — "dinner!    and  I'd   like  to 
know  ho\v  often  I  have  said — " 

"That  eating  was  the  great  object  of 
existence?  A  thousand  times,  most  re 
spectable  Snuffers !  True,  life  is  after  all 
but  a  struggle  against  starvation.  All 
else  but  what  the  human  animal  eats  is 
vanity !  And  the  fact  here  stated  is  sus 
ceptible  of  demonstration.  From  the 
singular  organization  of  the  creature  de 
nominated  man — " 

Unfortunately  for  the  doctor's  learned 
discourse,  an  instant  interruption  there 
of  occurred.  Breathless,  pop-eyed,  with 
haste  written  all  over  his  face,  rushed  in 
a  small  black  urchin,  who  nearly  precip 
itated  himself  into  the  doctor's  arms. 
That  gentleman  received  him  with  im 
movable  elbow,  sharp  and  bony,  which 
sent  him  flying  back. 


"  What's  the  meaning  of  this,  you  ras 
cal?"  quoth  Dr.  Vandyke. 

The  boy  cowered  and  fell  back.  But 
in  a  moment  he  regained  breath  and 
courage  to  deliver  his  message.  A  gen 
tleman,  while  riding  along  Gloucester 
Street,  had  been  thrown  from  his  horse, 
badly  injured,  and  borne  into  the  Raleigh 
Tavern,  where  he  awaited  Dr.  Vandyke's 
professional  services. 

"Say  I  am  coming,"  grunted  Dr. 
Vandyke. 

"And  your  dinner!"  shrilled  Mrs. 
Snuffers. 

The  doctor  wheeled  and  scowled  at 
her. 

"Snuffers! — you  are  a  pair  of  extin 
guishers  instead  of  the  implement  bear 
ing  your  name.  That  is  to  say,  you  are 
— a  woman !  " 

Having  discharged  this  thunder-bolt 
at  the  head  of  his  enemy,  Dr.  Vandyke 
put  on  his  hat,  grasped  a  large  stick  in 
his  vigorous  right  hand,  and,  with  his 
long  overcoat  flapping  against  his 
shrunken  legs,  went  out  of  the  house, 
and  toward  the  Raleigh  Tavern. 


II. 

A    FALL   FKOM    HOESEBACK. 

• 

AT  the  moment  when  Dr.  Vandyke 
had  unburdened  his  mind  by  shaking  his 
Bst  at  the  skeleton,  a  man  had  passed 
along  Gloucester  Street,  at  full  gallop, 
on  a  black  horse  of  great  strength  and 
speed. 

The  man  was  apparently  about  thir 
ty-five,  erect,  sinewy,  though  rather  thin, 
and  clad  in  a  dark  riding-suit  and  ele 
gant  riding-boots.  His  face  was  hand 
some  and  distinguished,  but  remarkable 
'or  its  pallor,  which  his  black  hair  ren 
dered  more  striking.  His  seat  in  the 
addle  was  that  of  an  excellent  horse- 
nan,  but  he  had  allowed  the  bridle  to 
all  on  the  neck  of  his  horse ;  and  the 


8 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


dreamy  expression  of  his  eyes  indicated 
that  he  was  sunk  in  a  profound  reverie. 

The  result  of  this  was  unfortunate. 
In  passing  the  door  of  the  Virginia  Ga 
zette  office,  a  young  man,  whose  back 
was  turned  to  him,  suddenly  unfolded  a 
number  of  the  paper,  just  handed  to  him 
by  a  boy;  and  the  black  horse  shied  vio 
lently,  unseating  and  throwing  his  rider, 
whose  head  struck  heavily  against  the 
stones  of  the  street. 

The  young  man,  who  had  inadver 
tently  caused  the  accident,  hastened  to 
the  assistance  of  the  fallen  horseman  and 
raised  him  in  his  arms.  He  was  quite  in 
sensible,  and  the  blood  flowed  from  a 
deep  gash  in  his  temple. 

A  crowd  immediately  collected. — 
"While  some  endeavored  unsuccessfully 
to  stop  the  black  horse,  which  galloped 
off,  the  rest  gathered  around  the  fallen 
man,  shutting  off  the  fresh  air.  All  at 
once,  however,  the  throng  divided,  and 
was  thrust  back.  A  tall,  bony  serving- 
man,  with  a  face  like  bronze,  hastened 
to  throw  his  arms  around  the  victim  of 
the  accident.  The  new-comer  paid  no 
attention  to  the  youth.  Raising  the  un 
conscious  form  in  his  arms,  he  bore  it 
into  the  Raleigh  Tavern,  which  was  only 
a  few  paces  distant,  and,  ascending  the 
narrow  staircase,  deposited  it  upon  a 
couch  in  one  of  the  chambers. 

The  crowd  had  remained  on  the 
porch  of  the  tavern,  but  the  young  man 
who  had  hastened  to  the  rescue,  fol 
lowed,  lie  had  already  dispatched  a 
boy  for  Dr.  Vandyke,  with  orders  that 
he  should  lose  no  time. 

The  tall  serving -man,  meanwhile, 
busied  himself  in  bathing  the  wounded 
forehead  in  cold  water.  The  youth 
looked  on  during  this  ceremony  with  an 
expression  of  much  concern. 

"  What  is  the  name  of  your  master?  " 
he  said,  at  length,  to  the  old  servant. 

That  personage  replied  in  a  brief, 
cold  voice,  without  raising  his  head — 

"  My  Lord  Ruthven." 


"  Of  his  Excellency's  suite  ? " 

"  Yes." 

As  the  abrupt  monosyllable  was  ut 
tered,  Lord  Ruthven  opened  his  eyes. 
As  they  fell  upon  the  young  man,  he 
started  violently. 

"  You  here!  "  he  gasped,  with  an  ap 
palled  look.  "  Good  Heavens ! — you  ?  " 

He  sank  back,  closing  his  eyes,  and 
shuddering. 

The  old  serving-man  rose  erect,  and 
his  whole  body  seemed  to  stiffen — his 
eyes  expressed  a  vague  astonishment, 
mingled  with  sternness.  He  had  opened 
his  lips  to  speak,  when  another  personage 
made  his  appearance — Dr.  Vandyke. 

"  Well,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  approach 
ing  the  couch,  and  striking  the  floor  with 
his  stick  at  each  step,  u  where  is  the 
hurt?" 

He  stopped  suddenly. 

"  Humph ! — Lord  Ruthven !  "  he  said. 
u  An  excellent  horseman.  How  was  he 
thrown  ?  " 

"  I  was  the  unfortunate  cause  of  the 
accident,  doctor,"  said  the  young  man. 

Dr.  Vandyke  wheeled  round  and 
gazed  at  the  speaker. 

"  You  are  Edmund  Innis?  "  he  said. 

"  Then  you  know  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  you." 

"So  much  the  better,  doctor — then 
yon  will  understand  how  much  I  regret 
this  unfortunate  occurrence." 

In  a  few  words  he  described  the  ori 
gin  of  the  accident. 

Dr.  Vandyke,  who  was  now  engaged 
in  laving  and  bandaging  the  wound,  re 
plied  only  in  grunts.  In  a  few  mo 
ments,  the  patient  uttered  a  deep  sigh, 
and  again  opened  his  eyes.  Again  he 
gave  a  violent  start,  and  exclaimed  : 

"Youf — then  I  did  not  dream! — oh, 
no,  no !  " 

The  words  were  almost  a  cry.  The 
wounded  man  shook  as  he  uttered  them. 
Both  the  youth  and  Dr.  Vandyke  listened 
with  the  utmost  astonishment.  Then 
the  physician  looked  keenly  at  the  youth. 


A  FALL  FROM   HORSEBACK. 


"Your  presence  appears  to  agitate 
Lord  Ruthven,"  he  said. 

"  Agitate  Mm  ?  ray  presence  ?  I  can 
not  conceive  the  reason!  "  exclaimed  the 
youth  in  utter  bewilderment. 

"  He  evidently  recognizes  you !  " 
growled  Dr.  Vandyke. 

"  Recognizes  me  ?  I  have  never  be 
fore  seen  him  even !  " 

"That  is  strange,"  was  the  reply, 
and  Dr.  Vandyke  directed  another  keen 
glance  at  the  speaker. 

"  It  is  true." 

"Doubtless — but  listen,  he  is  going 
to  speak !  " 

"  That  face  !  "  murmured  Lord  Ruth 
ven,  without  opening  his  eyes,  "that 
form !  —  again !  —  and  here,  when  I 
thought  I  had  fled  from  him  forever  ?  " 

"  Listen  !  "  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  with  a 
species  of  grunt. 

"  The  ocean  is  no  barrier,  then !  " 
muttered  Lord  Ruthven.  "  Fate  plays 
with  me !  " 

The  young  man  gazed  with  great  as 
tonishment  on  the  wounded  nobleman, 
and  then  at  the  physician. 

"  This  is  the  strangest  of  mysteries 
to  me,  doctor,"  he  said.  "What  Lord 
Ruthven  can  mean  by  thus  speaking  of 
me — as  though  we  had  met  elsewhere — 
had  relations  with  each  other — I  know 
not.  I  am  in  utter  darkness  as  to  the 
meaning  of  the  whole  affair.  But  one 
thing  is  plain — that  my  presence  agitates 
him,  as  you  say.  I  will  therefore  go, 
and  return  later,  to  ascertain  his  condi 
tion.  I  had  proposed  leaving  "Williams- 
burg  this  very  day  ;  but  I  shall  now  de 
fer  my  departure.  Before  going  I  must 
know  that  he  is  out  of  danger,  as  I  was 
the  unhappy  occasion  of  his  very  painful 
accident." 

"  Right,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke ;  "  go,  and 
come  back  to-morrow.  The  hurt  is  se 
rious — not  mortal  at  all." 

The  youth  bowed,  looked  with  sym 
pathy  upon  the  pale  face  of  the  sick 
man,  and  left  the  room. 


As  the  door  closed,  Lord  Ruthven 
opened  his  eyes,  and  looked  around  him, 
evidently  seeking  for  some  one.  A  deep 
sigh  followed. 

'•Where  is  he?"  he  said,  in  a  low, 
trembling  voice. 

"The  young  gentleman?"  said  Dr. 
Vandyke. 

"  Yes— yes !  " 

"  He  is  gone." 

"His  name?" 

"  Mr.  Edmund  Innis." 

"  I  never  heard  the  name  before !  " 

And,  as  he  spoke,  Lord  Ruthven  fell 
back,  uttering  a  sigh,  and  closing  his  eyes. 

"Humph!"  grunted  Dr.  Vandyke; 
"the  mystery  is  growing  more  mysteri 
ous  than  ever.  Well !  " 

The  words  attracted  the  attention 
apparently  of  the  sick  man,  who  looked 
at  the  speaker. 

"  You  are— a  physician,  I  think,  sir?  " 
he  said. 

"  Yes — sent  for,  to  come  to  see  you." 

"  Your  name,  doctor  ?  " 

"  Vandyke." 

The  patient  inclined  his  head  faintly. 

"  You  are  known  to  me,  doctor,  by 
repute  at  least.  I  am  fortunate.  Tell 
me  how  I  was  hurt.  My  horse  threw 
me,  I  think  ?  " 

"Yes." 

A  few  words  described  the  accident. 

"  That  was  careless  in  me — very  care 
less,"  he  said;  "and  this  young  gentle 
man — will  he  return  ?  " 

"To-morrow,  he  informs  me." 

Lord  Ruthven  made  no  reply  for  some 
moments.  His  face  had  grown  whiter 
than  ever. 

"  If  I  could  only — leave  this  place  to 
night!  "  he  murmured. 

He  looked  at  the  physician,  and  said : 

"  My  hurt  is  a  mere  trifle,  I  presume, 
doctor?" 

"  Every  thing  in  life  is  a  trifle,  and 
every  thing  important,"  was  the  .reply. 
"  You  may  be  ill  for  a  month,  or  well  in 
a  week." 


10 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"  Thanks,  doctor,  and  now  I  think  a 
little  sleep  \vill  prove  beneficial  to  me. 

May  I  beg  that  you  will  call  and  see  me 
again  to-morrow  ? — Wait  upon  the  doc 
tor,  Fergus — and  give  orders  that  I  shall 
not  be  disturbed.  Then  return." 

It  was  plain  that  Lord  Ruthven 
wished  to  be  alone,  and  Dr.  Vandyke 
took  his  departure,  escorted  ceremoni 
ously  by  the  body-servant  Fergus. 

In  five  minutes  Fergus  reentered  the 
chamber,  closing  and  locking  the  door 
behind  him.  His  master's  face  was  even 
paler,  if  that  were  possible,  than  before. 
His  eyes  burned  in  their  deep  sockets. 

"Fergus,"  he  said  in  a  low,  awe 
struck  whisper,  "  I  have  seen  him  !  " 


III. 

THE   BODY-SERVANT. 

greeted  this  abrupt  exclama 
tion  with  an  air  of  perfect  coolness. 

"  The  young  man,  my  lord  ?  "  he 
said. 

"Yes!" 

"When?"  was  the  laconic  question 
of  the  old  body-servant. 

"  When  I  saw  the  other !  " 

"  The  young  woman,  my  lord  ?  " 

"  Yes !  " 

This  brief  dialogue  was  followed  by 
a  long  silence,  interrupted  once  or  twice 
by  a  stifled  groan  from  Lord  Ruthven. 
Fergus  knit  his  brows,  but  preserved  his 

COOl!) 

"  Well,  my  lord,"  he  said,  at  length, 

"  I  say  again  what  I  have  said  time  after 

time  in  Scotland,  England,  France,  and 

rhere,  that  the  future  must  take  care 

of  itself." 

Lord  Ruthven  frowned. 

"M-'.-iNwhile,"  continued  the  body- 
servant,  coolly,  "I  would  advise  your 
lordship  to  keep  a  stout  heart,  and  hope 
for  the  b.  - 

Wh  -reat  his  master  broke  out: 

M  A  stout  heart !— then  I  am  a  baby !  " 


Fergus  saw  the  storm  coming,  but 
did  not  shrink  in  the  least. 

"  You  mean  that  I  am  a  mere  nervous 
invalid  !  "  continued  Ruthven,  angrily — 
"  a  cowering  slave,  shrinking  from*shad- 
ows !  " 

Fergus  retained  his  calmness,  and  re 
plied  : 

"  I  beg  to  call  your  lordship's  atten 
tion  to  the  fact  that,  if  you  grow  excited, 
your  wound  will  bleed  afresh." 

"  I  care  naught  for  it— let  it  bleed  !  " 

"The  blood  is  even  now  oozing 
through  the  bandage,  my  lord." 

Lord  Ruthven  replied  by  violently 
tearing  the  linen  from  his  head.  Imme 
diately  a  stream  of  blood  ran  down  his 
white  cheeks,  rendering  his  appearance 
ghastly. 

The  spectacle  disarmed  in  an  instant 
the  stiff  old  Scotchman  of  his  coolness. 
The  upright  bar  of  iron  suddenly  melted. 
Fergus  ran  to  his  master,  and  placed  his 
arm  around  him. 

"  My  lord  I  my  lord !  you  will  kill  your 
self! — you  will  bleed  to  death !  "  he  cried. 

"What  care  I,  Fergus?" 

"My  lord!  my  lord!" 

"  What  care  I  whether  my  wretched 
life  ends  here,  and  now  or  not  ?  " 

The  old  man  uttered  a  groan,  and 
busied  himself  in  washing  away  the 
blood.  He  then  replaced  the  bandage 
with  the  tenderness  of  a  mother,  and 
Lord  Ruthven,  who  had  sunk  back  and 
closed  his  eyes,  made  no  resistance. 

"Your  lordship  cuts  your  poor  old 
Fergus  to  the  very  heart,"  said  the  ser 
vant. 

"  I  would  not  do  so,  Fergus,"  was  the 
nobleman's  low  reply,   "  but  you  know  . 
well  the  terrible  effect  upon  me  of  the  least 
expression  of  doubt  upon  that  subject. 
I  am  to  '  hope  for  the  lest !  '    Then  I  am 
not  competent  to  direct  the  event.     You 
mean  that,  though  you  do  not  say  it —  !  " 
"  Your  lordship  grows  excited." 
"  You  intimate  that  I  may  fail  in  the 
hour  of  trial !  " 


KNOWN  AND  UNKNOWN. 


11 


"  My  lord  !  " 

"That  I  may  be  induced  to  yield  to 
this  accursed  temptation  !  " 

"  My  lord,  I  think  nothing,  and  say 
nothing." 

"  Do  you  dream  that  I  could  ?  "  said 
Lord  Kntliven,  in  a  despairing  tone,  and 
with  gloomy  sarcasm  he  added  : 

"  You,  no  doubt,  imagine  that  the  part 
of  the  drama  in  which  you  appear  is  to  be 
enacted  also  in  Virginia." 

Fergus  replied  with  great  coolness: 
"I  think,  my  lord,  that  this  world  we 
live  in  is  a  very  strange  world,  and  that 
we  can't  tell  what  will  happen  a  day  in 
advance." 

"True,  true!  "  murmured  Lord  Ruth- 
ven,  in  a  hopeless  voice. 

"And  as  to  myself,  my  lord — do  you 
think  I  am  afraid  ?  Has  your  lordship  the 
right  to  think  that,  when  I  have  remained 
with  you — looking  death  in  the  face  ?  " 

The  nobleman  suddenly  raised  his 
head,  and  held  out  his  hand  to  the  old 
man. 

"  Pardon  me,  Fergus !  "  he  said,  "  par 
don  my  injustice  and  ingratitude!  You 
are  truly  brave  and  faithful!  " 

Fergus  bent  down  and  kissed  the  hand 
extended  toward  him,  with  an  expression 
of  the  deepest  respect  and  affection.  His 
face  flushed,  and  a  moisture  came  to  the 
old  eyes. 

"There  is  naught  to  pardon,  my  lord. 
Am  I  not  your  servitor?  Do  with  me  as 
you  will." 

From  under  the  bushy  eyebrows 
darted  a  glance  of  absolute  tenderness — 
that  of  the  feudal  vassal  for  his  beloved 
lord. 

"  No  I  "  Lord  Ruthven  said ;  "we  are 
not  master  and  servitor,  Fergus.  You 
are  my  foster-brother — more  than  that, 
you  are  my  friend.  We  must  not  quarrel. 
We  are  in  a  strange  land  together.  We 
must  be  fast  and  true — fast  and  true!  " 

Fergus  had  retired  a  step,  and  now 
bowed  respectfully. 

"I    never    doubted    your    devotion, 


Fergus  ;  that  you  remain  with  me  is  suf 
ficient  proof  of  that ;  nor  did  I  ever  dream 
that  my  brave  Fergus  was  afraid." 

The  old  Scotchman,  who  had  grown 
as  cold  as  ever,  shook  his  head. 

"  As  to  the  devotion,  my  lord,  you  do 
me  no  more  than  justice.  I  am  devoted 
to  you;  but,  as  to  the  fear,  there  you  are 
wrong,  I  am  afraid." 

"  You  have  cause  to  be,"  groaned  Lord 
Ruthven. 

"  But  I  dare  the  danger,  and  don't  let 
it  frighten  me,  my  lord.  I  have  my  duty 
to  do  to  the  last  of  the  great  line  of 
Ruthven  ;  and  that  duty  I  will  perform, 
though  the  devil  himself  rise  in  my  path !  " 

"My  faithful  Fergus!  " 

"Thanks,  my  lord,  for  the  word.  I 
hope  I'm  faithful.  And,  now  as  your  lord 
ship  calls  me  foster-brother— tell  me— I 
wish  to  know — will  your  lordship  remain 
here  in  Virginia?  " 

"  I  know  not — no !  no !    How  can  I  ?  " 

Fergus  looked  for  some  moments,  in 
tently,  at  his  master.  In  this  fixed  glance 
there  was  no  little  astonishment.  Then, 
slowly  shaking  his  head,  he  said  : 

"  It  needs  must  be  that  something 
terrible  is  going  to  happen  when  the  last 
of  the  Ruthvens — the  bravest,  strongest 
of  his  race — talks  thus!  You  shiver  and 
turn  white !  My  lord,  let  us  go." 

"Yes,  yes! — and  yet — his  excellency 
will  think  it  strange!  But — well,  well! 
leave  me  now.  .1  will  sleep,  Fergus,  and 
— to-morrow — " 

The  voice  died  away,  and  the  speaker, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  floor,  fell 
into  a  profound  and  gloomy  reverie. 

Fergus  turned  away.  As  he  did  so, 
he  uttered  some  words  in  Gaelic.  These 
words  signified — "It  is  fated!  " 


IV. 

KXOWX   AND    I7XKXOWN. 

Ox  the  next  evening  Lord  Ruthven, 
;lad  in   a  rich    role  de    chambre,   wae 


12 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


stretched  npon  the  couch  in  his  apart 
ment  at  the  Raleigh  Tavern,  when  Fergus 
entered,  and  said  in  his  habitual  tone  of 
formal  respect : 

"  Mr.  Edmund  Innis  has  called  to  in 
quire  after  your  lordship's  health." 

"  The  young  man  ?  "  said  Lord  Ruth- 
ven,  his  pale  face  suddenly  filling  with 
blood. 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

"  I  will  see  him." 

Fergus  did  not  move. 

"  You  heard,  Fergus — I  will  see  this 
young  gentleman,"  added  his  master. 

"  Your  lordship  is  very  pale." 

"  But  I  am  better." 

"  And  still  very  weak." 

"  The  interview  will  do  me  no  harm." 

"  Your  lordship  insists?  " 

"  Admit  him." 

Fergus  bowed  and  went  out — his  steps 
were  heard  descending  the  stairs. 

As  he  disappeared,  Lord  Ruthven 
rose  and  went  to  a  mirror. 

"I  am  indeed  frightfully  pale,"  he 
murmured,  surveying  his  ghastly  cheeks, 
"  and  my  appearance  will  probably  shock 
my  visitor.  Still  I  must  see  him.  It  may 
be  that  yesterday,  while  weak  from  loss 
of  blood,  stunned,  with  my  brain  reeling, 
I  fancied — simply  fancied — but  no!  there 
can  be  no  doubt !  the  face,  the  hair,  the 
lips,  the  eyes — all  are  the  same !  " 

The  brows  of  the  speaker  contracted, 
and  he  drew  a  long,  painful  breath. 

"No!  let  me  not  attempt  to  cheat 
myself  with  any  doubt!"  he  muttered ; 
"'tis  the  very  man! — and  I  tempt  the 
evil  fate  that  is  dogging  me  by  even  speak 
ing  to  him — by  the  very  fact  of  receiving 
him !  No,  I  will  not  see  him !  I  will — 
Fergus !  "  And  he  hastened  toward  the 
door. 

A  <  he  did  so,  steps  were  heard  ascend 
ing  the  staircase  without.  The  visitor  was 
plainly  coming  up,  conducted  by  Fergus. 

"  Too  late  !  "  groaned  Lord  Ruthven, 
"  the  die  is  cast.  I  must  receive  him.  I 
shudder,  and  yet  advance  toward  him — 


would  avoid  him,  and  yet  cannot  resist 
the  temptation  to  gaze  at  him — to  listen 
to  him—" 

The  hand  of  Fergus  was  heard  upon 
the  knob,  and  his  voice  uttered  the 
words : 

"  This,  as  you  know,  sir,  is  his  lord 
ship's  apartment." 

And  the  door  opened,  Fergus  stand 
ing  ceremoniously  aside,  and  ushering  in 
the  visitor. 

Lord  Ruthven  had  resumed  his  place 
upon  the  couch,  from  which  he  now  rose 
as  his  visitor  entered.  The  two  gentle 
men  exchanged  courtly  bows,  and  Lord 
Ruthven  gazed  intently  at  the  other,  tak 
ing  in  every  detail  of  his  face  and  figure. 

Edmund  Innis  was  a  young  man  of 
twenty-two  or  three,  with  brown  hair, 
powdered,  after  the  fashion  of  the  period, 
and  tied  with  a  ribbon,  eyes  full  of  frank 
ness,  a  handsome  mouth,  indicating  sin 
cerity,  and  a  carriage  of  the  person  at 
once  proud  and  courteous.  His  embroid 
ered  coat,  long  silken  waistcoat,  and  ruf 
fles,  indicated  the  class  to  which  he  be 
longed — for,  at  that  time  costume  marked 
the  social  position  of  its  wearer;  but 
these  fine  garments  were  quite  shabby, 
and  the  general  appearance  of  the  youth 
seemed  to  prove  that  his  exchequer  was 
in  a  very  dilapidated  state  indeed.  His 
frill  was  irreproachably  white,  and  upon 
his  finger  sparkled  a  diamond  ring ;  but 
the  seams  of  his  coat  were  threadbare, 
there  was  a  hole  in  one  of  his  elbows, 
and  the  cocked-hat  held  in  his  hand  had 
lost  every  particle  of  the  lace  which  once 
adorned  it. 

In  spite,  however,  of  these  unmistak 
able  marks  of  the  "poor  gentleman," 
Lord  Ruthven  had  no  difficulty  in  per 
ceiving  at  a  glance  that  his  visitor  was, 
what  was  called  at  that  time,  a  person 
of  distinction.  The  head  above  the  worn 
coat  was  carried  with  proud  courtesy, 
and  the  discolored  hat  descended  in  a 
bow  which  was  as  graceful  as  that  made 
by  the  nobleman. 


KNOWN  AND  UNKNOWN. 


13 


"I  beg  that  you  will  be  seated,  sir," 
said  Lord  Ruthven,  pointing  to  an  arm 
chair. 

"Thanks,  my  lord,"  was  the  youth's 
reply,  as  he  took  his  seat,  "  I  am  truly 
glad  to  find  your  lordship  so  greatly  im 
proved  since  I  last  saw  you." 

"  A  mere  trifle,  Mr.  Innis." 

"  I  feared  your  case  was  much  worse." 

"I  am  nearly  recovered  already." 

Innis  bowed. 

"  That*  relieves  my  mind  of  a  load  of 
self-reproach.  I  need  scarce  inform  you 
that  I  deeply  regret  my  unfortunate 
agency  in  this  accident,  and  feel  that 
your  lordship  has  done  me  the  simple 
justice  to  believe  that  I  was  entirely  un 
aware  of  the  danger  to  which  I  enforced 
you.  Your  sudden  fall  was  a  very  great 
shock  to  me." 

"  I  did  not  doubt  that  for  a  moment, 
sir." 

"  So  you  are  not  seriously  injured  ?  " 

"In  twenty-four  hours  I  shall  be  as 
well  as  ever." 

,  "God  be  thanked!"  said  the  young 
man,  cordially;  "and  now,  having  re 
lieved  my  mind  of  all  anxiety  as  to  your 
lordship's  condition,  I  shall  return  to  my 
home  without  anxiety." 

During  this  exchange  of  common 
places  and  expressions  of  politeness. 
Lord  Ruthven  had  continued  to  gaze  in 
tently  at  Innis,  and,  as  trait  after  trait  in 
the  voice  and  countenance  of  the  youth 
came  out  more  plainly,  this  fixed  gaze 
became  one  of  much  agitation.  It  was 
plain  that  Lord  Ruthven  was  strongly 
moved.  His  dark  eyes  were  riveted  to 
the  visitor's  face,  a  slight  color  tinged 
his  pale  cheeks,  his  voice  trembled 
perceptibly,  and  his  breast  labored  in 
breathing. 

It  was  impossible  that  this  agitation, 
if  it  were  prolonged,  should  not  attract 
the  attention  of  the  visitor.  Lord  Ruth 
ven  seemed  to  feel  this.  He  made  a 
powerful  effort  to  suppress  his  emotion, 
in  which  he  partially  succeeded,  and  now 


said,  in  a  voice  which  had  grown  calm 
and  ceremonious  again : 

"You  speak  of  returning  to  your 
home,  sir — then  you  do  not  reside  in 
Williamsburg  ? " 

"No,  my  lord." 

"  Your  residence  is —  ?  " 

"  In  the  mountains." 

"The  Blue  Ridge?" 

"  Yes,  my  lord.  From  the  door  of  my 
little  home  you  may  look  upon  a  ring 
wellnigh  of  blue  mountains,  like  waves 
on  the  horizon." 

"  That  must  be  indeed  a  most  pictu 
resque  prospect,  sir.  The  Blue  Ridge,  I 
have  indeed  heard,  is  very  beautiful." 

"  Admirably  beautiful  and  imposing." 

"  As  the  Alps  and  Apennines,  do  you 
think,  sir?" 

"  Oh,  doubtless  not ;  but  I  have  never 
seen  either,  and  can  form  no  opinion." 

"Then,  you  have  never  visited  Eu 
rope,  Mr.  Innis  ? " 

"  Never,  my  lord.  I  am  a  mere  Buck 
skin,  as  the  phrase  is  in  our  country,  and 
scarce  travelled  beyond  my  poor  parish  in 
the  mountains." 

Lord  Ruthven  drew  a  long  breath, 
and  continued  to  gaze  intently  at  the 
youth. 

"I  thought  —  I  had  —  seen  you  be 
fore,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  and  with 
an  agitation  which  he  could  not  mas 
ter. 

"I  fancied  so,"  Innis  replied,  looking 
with  some  astonishment  at  the  speaker. 

"  You  fancied  so  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

"Pray,  why?" 

"From  some  singular  exclamations 
which  you  uttered  yesterday." 

"  Some  exclamations !  " 

"  When  you  had  not  fully  recovered 
from  the  stunning  effect  of  your  fall.1' 

"Oh,  yes!  "  returned  Lord  Ruthven, 
with  a  sickly  smile,  "  so  that  I  uttered, 
you  say — some — singular  exclamations  ?  " 

"  Singular  only  as  appearing  to  indi 
cate  upon  your  part  an  impression  that 


14 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


you  had  met  with  me  in  Europe,  and 
were  surprised  to  find  me  in  Vir 
ginia." 

"  Oh,  I  said  that?  How  very  absurc 
these  fancies  of  fever !  " 

"Iain  assured  that  fever  invariably 
produces  these  effects." 

"  And  you  attached  no  importance 
I  presume,  to  these  wanderings,  sir?  " 
"None  whatever." 
"  They  are  truly  absurd,  and  at  times, 
I  fancy,  rather  laughable.  Did  I  say  more 
in  my  delirium? — I  am  naturally  curious 
to  hear  of  my  vagaries." 

The  sickly  smile  was  repeated,  as 
Lord  Ruthven  uttered  these  words  with 
assumed  carelessness ;  but  his  intent  and 
burning  eyes,  fixed  on  the  face  of  his  vis 
itor,  betrayed  the  deep  importance  which 
he  attached  to  the  reply. 

Again  Innis  could  not  avoid  observ 
ing  that  singular  agitation.  He  hesitated, 
feeling  a  vague  astonishment  and  uneasi 
ness.  "Whither  was  the  singular  colloquy 
drifting?  What  was  the  object  of  Lord 
Ruthven  in  these  questions,  and  why  was 
he  so  deeply  agitated  ? 

"You  are  silent,  sir!"  said  Lord 
Ruth ven,  with  feverish  emotion;  "I  wish 
to  know — " 

His  voice  had  grown  brief  and  impe 
rious  ;  but  he  suddenly  stopped. 

"  Pardon  my  rudeness,  Mr.  Innis,"  he 
said,  sorrowfully;  "my  nerves  indeed 
must  have  been  shaken,  that  I  address  a 
gentleman  of  your  quality  with  so  little 
ceremony.  I  beg  you  will  overlook  my 
rudeness." 

Innis  smiled. 

"  I  am  far  from  thinking  any  apology 
necessary,  my  lord;  nor  was  there  aught 
in  your  tone  even  at  which  I  could  justly 
take  offence." 

'•Thanks  for  your  courtesy,  sir;  and 
now  may  I  beg  to  repeat  my  question  in 
milder  terms?  " 

"  Your  question? " 

"  Whether  I  said  aught  more  in  my 
delirium  yesterday  than  that  I  thought  I 


had  met  with  you  in  Europe,  and  did 
not  expect  to  see  you  here  ?  " 
"  Frankly,  you  did  say  more." 
"  What  more,  may  I  ask  ?  "  said  Lord 
Ruthven,  turning  a  shade  paler. 

Innis  still  hesitated.  He  remembered 
distinctly  the  words  uttered  by  the  noble 
man  on  the  preceding  day : 

"  That  face,  that  form  again! — and 
here  ! — when  I  thought  I  had  fled  from 
him  forever  !" 

He  looked  at  Lord  Ruthven  and  was 
silent  a  moment ;  then  he  said : 

"  Your  lordship  attaches  undue  im 
portance  to  these  exclamations  of  fever 
—yours  did  not  differ,  probably,  from 
those  uttered  by  others  at  such  mo 
ments.  I  am  happy  to  find  that  this 
confusion  of  mind  has  now  wholly  disap 
peared — and  that — " 

"Pardon  the   interruption,   Mr.  In 
nis  ! "   said    Lord    Ruthven,    feverishly, 
'but  you  have  not  replied  to  the  ques 
tion  I  had  the    honor    to    address    to 
you." 

"You  would  have  me — ?  " 

"Essay  to  recall,  if  it  please  you,  sir, 
the  exact  words  which  I  uttered.  I  beg 
that  you  will  reply  frankly." 

"  I  will  do  so,  my  lord.  I  do  recall 
your  expressions." 

"  What  were  they,  sir?" 

"  Your  lordship  compels  me  to  re 
member  and  repeat  words  which  I  had 
almost  forgotten.  As  you  plainly  wish 
to  have  them  repeated,  I  reply  that  upon 
opening  your  eyes,  and  seeing  me  stand 
ing  before  you,  you  addressed  me  as  a 
person  from  whom  you  thought  you  had 
fled  forever  !  " 

"  Fled  forever  !    I  said  that  ?  " 

"  Such  were  your  words,  and  I  pray 
•ou  to  observe  that  they  are  only  re 
peated  at  your  urgent   request.      They 
will,  of  course,  be  buried  in  my  bosom, 
as  having  no  importance  or  significance." 

"  I  beseech  you  to  thus  bury  them !  " 
ixclaimed  Lord  Ruthven,  with  irrepres- 
ible  agitation,  "  and  that  from  this  mo- 


KNOWN  AND   UNKNOWN. 


15 


ment,  if  possible,  you  will  even  cease  to 
remember  them." 

"  You  can  rely  upon  my  word  with 
implicit  faith,"  said  the  youth,  proudly. 

"I  feel  that  I  can  do  so,  Mr.  Tnnis. 
Human  beings  with  eyes  and  lips  like 
your  own  never  deceive,  sir  !  " 

Innis  inclined  his  head. 

"  Thanks  for  your  courtesy,  my  lord." 

"Do  not  even  remember  if  that  is 
possible,  those  foolish  words,  Mr.  Innis ! 
My  life  has  been  strange  and  unfortu 
nate,  my  words  and  actions  are  wild,  in 
explicable,  and  yet  could  be  explained! 
I  said  yesterday — but  why  recall  that?  — 
there  is  a  woful  mystery,  to  be  frank 
with  you,  sir,  under  what  I  uttered.  I 
speak  to  a  man  of  honor — your  face  says 
'Trust  me!'  and  would  to  God  that  I 
could  speak!  I  cannot.  I  have  even 
now  said  far  more  than  in  cooler  mo 
ments  I  should  have  done.  We  shall  see 
each  other,  after  this  day,  no  more,  I 
hope — suppose  I  should  say,  sir  !  " 

Lord  Ruthven  wiped  his  forehead, 
upon  which  had  burst  forth  an  icy  per 
spiration.  By  an  immense  effort,  he 
suppressed  his  emotion. 

"This  seems  strange  to  you,  doubt 
less,  sir,  and  you  will  think  that  my  fever 
has  not  left  me,"  he  added,  more  calmly. 
"  I  shall,  therefore,  cease  to  allude  fur 
ther  to  this  somewhat  strange  subject, 
only  repeating  my  request  that  you  will 
forget  all  these  absurdities — the  ravings 
of  my  delirium,  and  the  words  just  ut 
tered  in  confidence  by  one  gentleman  to 
another." 

"  I  shall  carefully  observe  your  re 
quest,  my  lord.  Your  fever  and  your 
confidence  are  both  sacred  to  me." 

"Thanks,  sir,"  said  Lord  Ruthven. 
"  I  could  not  feel  more  perfectly  assured 
of  that  than  I  now  do,  in  consequence  of 
your  promise." 

His  head  drooped,  and  an  expression 
of  weariness  and  sorrow  came  to  his 
face.  Then,  raising  his  eyes  slowly,  he 
said: 


"Do  you  know  what  thought  passed 
through  my  mind  at  that  instant,  Mr. 
Innis  ?  I  thought  how  glad  I  should  be 
could  I  solicit  your  friendship." 

"  My  lord—" 

"But  I  cannot — I  should  be  proud 
and  glad  to  do  so— but— but— I  shall  in 
two  or  three  weeks  return  to  Europe, 
and  it  is  wholly  improbable  that  we 
shall  ever  meet  again  in  this  world." 

Innis  listened  with  astonishment,  and 
could  find  no  explanation  for  the  tones 
and  glances  of  Lord  Ruthven.  His 
voice  had  grown  mild,  cordial,  and  full 
of  kindness.  The  glance  fixed  upon  the 
young  man's  face  was  almost  one  of  af 
fection. 

"You  do  me  great  honor,"  said  the 
youth,  much  moved,  "  and  can  you  not 
remain?  Do  so,  if  possible.  I,  too, 
should  be  proud  to  secure  your  lord 
ship's  regard  and  friendship." 

"You!" 

"Assuredly." 

"Oh,  no!  'Tis  impossible!  And 
yet — no !  Pardon  me— I  mean  only  that 
I  must  return." 

"  You  should  remain  with  us  longer. 
Virginia  is  the  land  of  lands !  " 

"'Tis  doubtless  beautiful,  sir,  but  my 
voyage  is  unavoidable." 

"  You  cannot  defer  it?  " 

"  I  regret  that  it  is  out  of  my  power 
to  do  so,  sir." 

Innis  rose. 

"  Well,  at  least,  my  lord,"  he  said, 
"your  hurt  is  healing,  and  I  shall  not 
have  the  great  grief  of  reflecting  that 
your  death  lay  at  my  door." 

He  smiled,  but  Lord  Ruthven's  face 
had  no  smile  upon  it  as  he  replied  : 

"  Certainly  no  blame  could — or  can — 
attach  to  you,  sir." 

"  And  Virginia  is  spared  the  sadness, 
too,  since  you  will  not  die  on  our  soil." 

"I  know  not,  sir,"  said  Lord  Ruth 
ven,  with  a  singular  and  gloomy  look. 

Innis  laughed. 

"Let  us  hope  for  the  best,"  he  said. 


16 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"I  shall  now  bid  your  lordship  good- 
even." 

"  Can  you  not  sit  longer,  sir  ?  " 

"No,  with  thanks.  I  must  set  out 
for  the  mountains  at  dawn,  and  I  shall 
now  have  the  honor  of  taking  a  final 
leave  of  your  lordship." 

As  he  spoke,  Innis  cordially  extended 
his  hand,  his  handsome  face  lit  up  by  a 
friendly  smile. 

Lord  Ruthven  made  no  movement  to 
accept  the  proffered  hand. 

His  eyes  had  suddenly  closed,  as  if  he 
were  about  to  faint,  and  his  face  had 
grown  ghastly  pale. 

"  Your  lordship  is  ill !  "  exclaimed 
Innis,  hastening  toward  him. 

"  No,  no  !  "  returned  Lord  Ruthven, 
in  a  low  voice,  and  repulsing  the  youth 
with  a  motion  of  his  hand.  "  That  is  to 
say — a  slight  dizziness — a  species  of  ver 
tigo,  doubtless — but  'tis  passed." 

He  rose,  and,  without  making  any  mo 
tion  to  offer  his  hand  to  his  visitor,  made 
a  low  and  courtly  bow. 

"  Farewell,  sir,"  he  said  ;  "  I  owe  you 
many  thanks  for  this  obliging  visit. 
Should  we  not  meet  again,  I  shall  retain 
in  my  memory  the  recollection  of  a  most 
agreeable  interview,  Mr.  Innis." 

A  second  bow  followed  the  words. 
Innis,  without  offering  his  hand  a  second 
time,  replied  by  a  similar  inclination, 
and,  putting  on  his  hat,  went  out  of  the 
apartment. 

As  the  door  closed,  Lord  Ruthven 
tottered  rather  than  walked  to  the  couch, 
and  fell  upon  it,  as  though  his  strength 
were  completely  exhausted. 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  he  groaned,  "  I  could 
not  take  his  hand  !  I  could  not  be  guilty 
of  that  infamy  at  least !  Whatever  devil 
drives  me — whatever  I  do — I  will  not  be 
false— no!  never!  If  he  falls  by  my 
sword  'twill  not  be  the  friend  whose 
hand  I've  clasped. — Knowing — " 

There  the  voice  of  the  speaker  died 
away  in  a  species  of  gasp. 

"  Cursed !  cursed !  cursed !  " 


These  words  escaped  in  a  stifled  whis 
per  from  Lord  Ruthven's  lips,  and  he  fell 
back,  closing  his  eyes. 

When,  ten  minutes  afterward,  Fergus 
entered  the  apartment,  he  found  that  his 
master  had  fainted. 


V. 


IN   THE   DARKNESS. 

SINCE  the  scenes  just  described,  three 
days  had  passed.  Night  had  come,  and 
a  violent  storm  was  lashing  the  capital. 
The  wind  rolled  with  the  hoarse  moan 
of  the  sea  in  a  tempest,  above  the  crouch 
ing  houses  ;  from  moment  to  moment  the 
black  clouds  cracked  from  horizon  to 
zenith,  letting  out  the  lightning;  and 
these  dazzling  flashes  were  followed  by 
bursts  of  thunder,  which  seemed  to  utter 
aloud  the  fury  of  inanimate  Nature. 

In  spite  of  the  storm  and  the  heavy 
drops  preluding  the  coming  rain,  Lord 
Ruthven,  who  had  risen  from  his  sick- 
couch  on  that  evening,  took  his  way  tow 
ard  the  governor's  palace  to  call  upon 
his  excellency. 

He  wore  a  suit  of  black  velvet,  and 
the  small  short-sword,  then  a  portion  of 
full-dress  costume.  The  lightning,  from 
instant  to  instant,  revealed  his  funereal 
figure  and  pallid  face.  From  the  gloomy 
expression  of  eye  and  lip  it  was  plain 
that  the  agitating  scenes  of  the  day  of  his 
accident  had  profoundly  impressed  him. 

"  Well,"  he  muttered,  "  I  will  sound 
his  excellency  to-night  upon  the  subject 
of  my  departure — that  is  the  best  course. 
He  has  left  Williamsburg — for  the  mo 
ment,  the  danger  is  past — but  who 
knows?  He  may  come  back;  fate  is 
powerful ;  and  then — then — yes,  I  will 
go!  That  is  best!" 

He  went  on,  paying  no  attention  to 
the  storm. 

"  Let  me  not  palter  with  my  destiny," 
he  added,  his  voice  low  and  mournful, 
his  lips  assuming  a  melancholy  smile. 


IX  THE   DARKNESS. 


"  This  accident  is  a  presage  —  reciprocity 
is  the  law  of  Nature  —  his  act  on  this  very 
street  struck  me  down  —  mine  will  strike 


A  dazzling  flash  of  lightning  followed 
the  words,  and  the  roar  of  thunder  suc 
ceeded.  A  slight  color  had  come  to  the 
pale  face. 

"  I  believe  I  enjoy  this  hurly-burly  of 
Nature,"  muttered  Lord  Ruthven  ;  "'tis 
in  unison  with  my  stormy  life.  Yes  ;  the 
more  I  reflect,  the  more  clearly  I  per 
ceive  'tis  best  to  go.  And  yet  —  am  I 
panic-  stricken,  timid,  nervous?  He  is  no 
longer  here.  He  has  gone  to  his  home 
in  the  mountains  —  " 

The  speaker  struck  suddenly  against 
some  object  approaching  him:  It  was  a 
man  whose  footsteps  had  been  drowned 
by  the  uproar  of  the  wind,  and  whose 
form  had  been  concealed  by  the  black 
darkness  of  the  night.  Lord  Ruthven 
drew  his  dress-sword  —  for  it  appeared 
to  him  that  something  hostile  was  in 
tended  by  this  unknown  —  and,  retreat 
ing  a  step,  directed  the  point  of  the 
sword  toward  the  shadowy  figure. 

At  the  same  instant  a  flash  of  light 
ning  cut  the  air  like  a  white-hot  blade, 
and  Ruthven  recognized  Innis. 

"  You  !  "  he  cried. 

"Yes,  I,  my  lord!"  returned  the 
young  man,  with  some  sternness  in  his 
voice.  "  What  means  this  threat  —  this 
sword's  point  at  my  breast?  " 

Lord  Ruthven  shuddered  from  head 
to  foot,  and  dropped  the  point  of  his 
dress-sword,  which  he  violently  thrust 
back  into  its  scabbard. 

"You,  sir!"  he  repeated.  "Good 
Heavens!  who  could  have  dreamed  of 
this  encounter  ?  I  thought  you  absent  — 
my  sword's  point  —  'twas  unwittingly 
that  I  drew  my  weapon  —  pardon  me,  sir 
—  the  night  is  dark,  and  —  you  have  not 
then  left  Williamsburg?" 

The  agitation  of  the  speaker  was  so 
great  that  Innis  understood  instantly  that 
nothing  hostile  had  been  intended. 


"No,  my  lord,"  he  said;  "and  we 
encounter  each  other  again  under  singu 
lar  circumstances." 

"  Fatal  circumstances !  " 

Innis  littered  a  light-hearted  laugh  in 
the  darkness. 

"  Not  so  very  fatal,  my  lord,  since  no 
one  is  hurt.  Your  sword  at  my  breast 
caused  rne  some  astonishment,  and  a  little 
irritation,  it  may  be.  But  a  word  ex 
plains  all.  You  no  doubt  took  me  for  a 
footpad,  and  in  the  dark  'tis  well  to  be 
on  one's  guard." 

"  Yes — and  in  the  light,"  was  the  re 
ply  of  Ruthven,  iu  a  singular  tone. 

"You  were  going — ?  " 

"  To  see  his  excellency.  And  you, 
sir?" 

"  To  the  house  of  a  gentleman  living 
near  the  capitol." 

"  You  designed  leaving  Williamsburg, 
I  think,  when  we  parted,  sir  ?  " 

"I  did  so  design,  uiy  lord,  but  the 
fates  forbade." 

"The  fates?" 

"  Or  chance,  or  Providence,  as  there 
is  no  chance,  I  think,  in  life." 

"You  are  right,  sir.  If  you  will  not 
think  me  singular  or  intrusfve,  may  I  ask 
what  you  call  'the  fates,'  or  'Provi 
dence?'" 

Lord  Ruthven  heard  the  smile,  so  to 
say,  of  Innis,  as  he  replied  in  the  dark 
ness  : 

"  Oh,  my  lord,  the  explanation  is  ex 
tremely  simple.  I  came  to  Williamsburg, 
designing  to  make  arrangements  with 
my  father's  friend,  Mr.  Wythe,  to  become 
a  law-student  in  his  oflice — when  about 
to  leave  the  capital  he  begged  me  to  stay 
and  copy  lor  him  some  important  pa 
pers." 

Lord  Ruthven  remained  silent. 

"  There  is  all  the  mystery,"  said  In 
nis. 

"  And — this  work,  sir — doubtless,  'tis 
onerous?" 

."Somewhat." 

"  'Twill  detain  you  longer?  " 


18 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"I  fear  so." 

"  When  you  are  anxious  to  return?  " 

"I  confess,  I  shall  be  pleased  to  do 

so." 

Lord  Ruthven  reflected  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  and  then  said,  in  a  melancholy 
tone: 

"  I  envy  you,  Mr.  Innis,  this  return 
to  your  family.  The  hearthstone  will 
hrighten  for  you  ;  with  me  'tis  different. 
I  have  no  family  and  no  home — a  resi 
dence  only." 

*'  I  am  no  less  unfortunate,  my  lord. 
My  parents  are  dead,  and  I  have  no 
brothers  or  sisters." 

"But  relatives,  friends  —  perchance, 
one  nearer  and  dearer  than  any  friend — " 
The  expression  of  the  speaker's  voice 
was  singular.  The  words  were  careless, 
but  he  listened  anxiously,  it  was  plain, 
for  Innis's  reply. 

"  Nearer  —  and  —  dearer  ?  "  said  the 
youth,  in  a  confused  voice. 

*'  I  mean  that  you  are  expected  by 
some  dear  one  yonder,  Mr.  Innis — some 
young  lady — who  loves  you — " 

"  Oh,  no,  my  lord!  I'm  not  so  fortu 
nate." 

44  There  is  none  such  ?  " 
"None." 

Lord  Ruthven  drew  a  long  breath. 
"  Heaven  be  thanked  !  "  he  muttered. 
"  Your  lordship  said—  ?  " 
"Nothing,  Mr.  Innis." 
A  sudden  flash  revealed  Lord  Ruth- 
ven's  face.     He  was  sunk  in  profound 
thought— his  eyes  half  closed.     But  this 
preoccupation  rapidly  disappeared. 

"  I  am  detaining  you,  Mr.  Innis,"  he 
said.  "  This  interview,  as  you  have  said, 
is  singular.  Commencing  with  my  sword- 
point  directed  at  your  breast"  — the 
speaker  shuddered  as  he  uttered  these 
words— "and  ending  with  a  somewhat 
ill-bred  intrusion  upon  your  private  af 
fairs." 

"Oh,  not  at  all,  I  beg  you  to  be 
lieve,"  said  Innis ;  "  'twas  perfectly  nat 
ural." 


"  There  was  certainly  no  intent  to 
offend  you  with  sword  or  tongue.  Mr. 
Innis;  and  now  I  bid  you  good-even. 
The  storm  is  about  to  burst.  We  shall 
not  meet  again,  sir — I  have  resolved  to 
return  to  Europe.  Farewell,  sir." 

He  passed  Innis,  as  he  spoke,  walking 
rapidly,  and  not  offering  his  hand. 

"The  die  is  cast — I  go,  and  go  at 
once!"  he  muttered;  "to  stay  were 
madness  indeed !  " 

The  roar  of  the  wind  drowned  the 
words.  Unconsciously  he  turned  his 
head.  At  the  same  moment  a  vivid  flash 
lit  up  the  street,  revealing  the  form  of 
Innis. 

The  youth  was  standing  motionless, 
looking  after  him.  • 


VI. 

EUTHVEN'S  RESOLUTION. 

TOWARD  midnight  Lord  Ruthven  re 
turned  from  the  governor's  palace, 
through  the  drenched  streets,  and,  going 
to  his  apartment  in  the  Raleigh,  aroused 
Fergus,  who  was  stretched  asleep  upon  a 
pallet  in  one  corner  of  the  chamber. 

"Fergus!  Fergus!"  he  said,  fever 
ishly. 

"My  lord,"  was  the  cool  response; 
and  Fergus,  wide  awake  in  a  moment, 
rose  to  his  feet. 

"Pack  my  trunks,  Fergus,"  said  Lord 
Ruthven,  in  the  same  agitated  voice ;  "  we 
are  going." 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

And  the  old  servant  calmly  began  to 
collect  the  articles  of  his  master's  ward 
robe,  carefully  fold  *i.<?m,  and  deposit 
them  in  two  or  three  large  travelling- 
runks  which  stood  in  a  sort  of  closet. 

"  We  are  going,"  repeated  Lord  Ruth 
ven,  walking  up  and  down  the  apart 
ment. 

"  To  Europe,  my  lord?  " 

"Yes." 

Fergus  nodded. 


FERGUS   RIDES. 


19 


"I  am  glad  to  go,"  he  said,  "  and  at 
once." 

"I  have  seen  him  again!  " 
"Him?" 


Fergus  made  the  same  movement  with 
his  head. 

"  Then  he  has  not  left  this  town?  " 

41  No." 

"  Your  lordship  met  him?  " 

"  Yes—  to-night." 

"In  the  storm,  my  lord?  " 

"  Yes;  and  wellnigh  began  the  strug 
gle  —  my  sword  at  his  breast." 

And  Lord  Buthven  described  his  noc 
turnal  meeting  with  Innis. 

Fergus  listened,  busily  packing  the 
trunks  meanwhile. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  when  Euthven  had 
finished  his  narrative,  "I  think  your 
lordship  acts  wisely.  This  is  no  place 
for  you  if  he  is  here.  I  know  not  how 
it  is,  but  I  grow  more  frightened  day  by 
day.  Your  lordship  is  changing,  and  for 
the  worse;  let  us  go." 

"Yes,  yes!  Mount  your  horse  to 
morrow,  ride  to  the  port  on  James 
Kiver,  and  engage  our  passage  to  Eng 
land." 

"  I  will  do  so,  my  lord,  at  dawn." 

And  Fergus  continued  steadily  to 
pack  the  travelling-trunks. 

Lord  Buthven  walked  up  and  down 
the  apartment  for  some  time  in  gloomy 
thought,  then  took  his  seat  at  a  table, 
and  wrote  for  an  hour  ;  then,  laying 
down  his  pen,  rested  his  forehead  upon 
his  arms,  crossed  on  the  table,  and  either 
reflected  or  slept. 

Fergus  continued  to  pack  the  trunks. 


VII. 

FERGTTS    EIDE8. 

WITH  the  first  light  of  dawn  Fergus 
was  in  the  saddle,  and  riding  in  the  di 
rection  of  James  River,  where,  at  the 


nearest  wharf,  he  expected  to  find  some 
bark  bound  for  England. 

He  saw  two  vessels,  and  was  soon 
making  inquiries. 

"  You  are  outward  bound  soon?  "  he 
said  to  the  captain  of  one. 

"No,"  was  the  reply;  "just  arrived 
from  Portsmouth." 

"And  that  other  bark  yonder?  " 

"From  the  Bermudas  —  hugged  me 
close  all  the  way — came  up  the  river  to 
gether." 

"  There  is  no  outward-bound  ship  ?  " 

"  None." 

Fergus  rode  back  and  reported  the 
result  to  his  master,  who  received  the 
information  in  gloomy  silence. 

"Bring  the  last  number  of  the  Ga 
zette"  he  said,  at  length. 

Fergus  descended,  procured  the  Vir 
ginia  Gazette  from  the  landlord,  and  re 
turned. 

"  This  paper  brought  me  ill-fortune 
but  the  other  day,"  Lord  Buthven  mut 
tered,  with  a  painful  smile ;  "  perhaps 
'twill  bring  good  fortune  to-day — let  us 
see," 

He  opened  the  paper,  and  his  eyes 
fell  upon  the  lines: 

"Port  of  For*.— The  Charming  Sally, 
Captain  Fellowes,  intends  for  England  in 
six  days  from  this  date.  Passage  secured 
by  applying  to  Captain  Fellowes." 

Lord  Buthven  read  this  announce 
ment  to  Fergus,  and  said : 

"This  vessel  sails  to-morrow;  I  will 
go  in  her." 

Fergus  nodded,  went  to  the  stable, 
mounted,  and  took  his  way  toward  York- 
town,  where  he  found  Captain  Fellowes 
standing  on  the  wharf,  and  superintend 
ing  the  efforts  of  his  crew  to  drag  the 
Charming  Sally  on  shore  by  means  of 
cables. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  said  Fergus. 
Captain  Fellowes  turned  round,  sur 
veyed  Fergus  attentively,  and  said : 

"  The  matter  is,  my  friend,  that  the 
Charming  Sally  has  scraped  a  hole  in  her 


20 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


sheathing,  and  that  the  young  lady  is 
going  to  be  laid  up,  neither  more  nor 
less  than  happens  on  certain  other  oc 
casions  with  the  interesting  sex." 

And  Captain  Fellowes  winked,  rolled 
the  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  ruddy  cheek 
under  his  tongue,  and  uttered  a  jovial 
laugh.  k 

"Then  the  ship  will  not  sail?"  said 
Fergus,  cool  and  unimpressed. 

"Can't,  my  friend,"  said  the  captain. 
"She'd  spring  a  leak  in  the  very  middle 
of  the  Atlantic,  mayhap ;  then  good-by 
to  the  Charming  Sally." 

"Is  any  other  vessel  in  port  outward 
bound  ? " 

"  There  is  no  other." 
"And  how  long  will  it  take  to  repair 
your  vessel  ? " 

"Well,  it  may  take  three  weeks,  and 
it  may  take  three  months.  To  tell  you 
the  truth,  my  friend,  I  begin  to  think  we 
have  made  our  last  voyage  this  year." 

Fergus  rode  back  to  Williamsburg, 
and  reported  this  second  failure  to  Lord 
Ruthven.  A  bitter  smile  this  time  greet 
ed  the  return  of  the  old  servant. 

"Fate  seems  to  have  assumed  the 
direction  of  affairs,"  said  Lord  Ruth- 
ven ;  "but  I  shall  make  one  more  effort. 
Rest  to-day,  Fergus;  to-morrow  ride  to 
St.  Mary's,  on  the  Potomac.  If  you  fail 
to  engage  a  passage  there,  proceed  north 
ward,  if  necessary,  to  the  port  of  New 
York.  I  have  no  choice ;  any  species  of 
vessel  will  content  me,  seaworthy  or 
unseaworthy.  This  may  end  as  it  will." 
And  Lord  Ruthven,  leaning  back  in 
his  chair,  was  silent.  Fergus  looked  at 
him  fixedly,  shook  his  head,  but  made 
no  reply,  and  quietly  left  the  apartment. 
On  the  next  morning  he  ordered  his 
horse  to  be  saddled,  put  a  change  of 
clothes  in  a  small  valise,  and  then,  hat 
in  hand,  said  to  Lord  Ruthven,  who  was 
gazing  upon  the  floor  in  a  fit  of  gloomy 
abstraction : 

"I  am  about  to  set  out;  has  your 
lordship  any  further  orders  ?  " 


"None." 

"I  must  engage  passages  for  your 
lordship  and  myself,  either  at  St.  Mary's 
or  at  New  York?" 

"Yes." 

Fergus  bowed,  and  went  toward  the 
door.  As  he  did  so,  steps  were  heard 
ascending  the  stairs,  and  a  knock  came 
at  the  door.  The  old  body-servant 
opened  it.  A  man,  wearing  the  livery 
of  the  governor,  appeared,  holding  in 
his  hand  a  letter. 

"For  his  lordship,  "he  said. 


VIII. 

THE   TWO    LETTERS. 

RUTHVEN  mechanically  opened  the 
letter,  glancing  at  it  with  little  interest. 
As  he  read,  however,  his  expression 
grew  more  gloomy.  Having  finished  it. 
he  placed  it  upon  the  table,  muttering — 

"Impossible!" 

Fergus  glanced  at  his  master,  hesi 
tated,  then  returned  a  step,  and  said : 

"Will  your  lordship  send  a  reply  by 
the  servant  ? " 

Ruthven  raised  his  head. 

"No— yes— let  him  wait  a  few  mo 
ments." 

Fergus  communicated  this  order  to 
the  governor's  servant,  who  closed  the 
door,  and  descended  the  stairs. 

"  Fergus  !  "  said  Ruthven,  without 
raising  his  eyes. 

"  My  lord  !  " 

"  That  same  fate  we  were  talking  of 
has  taken  a  new  form." 

"A  new  form,  my  lord  ?  " 

"The  form  of  his  excellency  the  gov 
ernor." 

Fergus  nodded  ;  nothing  ever  seemed 
to  astonish  him. 

" Listen!  "  said  his  master,  in  a  cold, 
careless  voice. 

And,  taking  the  letter  from  the  table, 
he  read : 


THE   TWO   LETTERS. 


21 


"MY  DEAE  LOKD:  I  have  the  honor 
to  say  that  I  have  received  your  note  of 
yesterday,  informing  me  of  your  desire 
to  return  to  Scotland,  but  I  trust  'tis  not 
essential  to  your  plans,  or  required  by 
circumstances,  that  this  departure  should 
be  so  very  sudden.  'Twill  subject  me,  I 
fear,  to  serious  inconvenience,  as  I  high 
ly  appreciate  your  services,  my  lord, 
and  should  with  difficulty  supply  your 
place. 

"Your  lordship  will  observe  that  I 
plead  for  a  temporary  change  in  your 
determination,  both  officially  an4  as  a 
personal  friend. 

"  Receive,  my  lord,  ." 

"You  see,"  said  Lord  Ruthven,  stop 
ping  suddenly,  and  throwing  down  the 
letter. 

"  Yes,  my  lord.  And  what  will  be 
your  reply  ?  My  own  movements  will 
depend  thereon." 

"  I  shall  not  change  my  decision." 

"Your  lordship  will  go,  all  the 
same  ? " 

"  Yes." 

Fergus  went  toward  the  door. 

"  Wait  an  instant  and  take  my  reply," 
said  Lord  Ruthven.  "These  strange 
serving-men  sink  their  eyes  before  me, 
but  look  pryingly  at  my  poor  pale  face, 
Fergus,  when  my  eyes  are  turned  from 
them.  I  would  be  served  by  none  but 
yourself." 

And,  drawing  his  chair  to  the  table, 
Lord  Ruthven  took  up  a  pen,  and  began 
to  write. 

He  had  written  but  two  or  three 
lines,  when  steps  again  ascended  the 
stairs  without,  and  a  second  knock  was 
heard  at  the  door. 

Fergus  went  and  opened  it.  A  ser 
vant  belonging  to  the  tavern  stood  be 
fore  him,  a  letter  in  his  hand. 

u  This  was  left  for  Lord  "Ruthven," 
said  the  man. 

"  By  whom  ?  "  said  Fergus. 

"By  young  Mr.  Innis." 


At  that  name  Lord  Ruthven  quickly 
raised  his  head. 

"  Mr.  Innis !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  my  lord,"  said  the  man. 

"  When  was  this  note  brought — give 
it  me !  " 

The  man  was  about  to  approach,  but 
Fergus  intercepted  him. 

"No  one  waits  on  his  lordship  but 
myself,"  he  said. 

Placing  the  letter  on  the  silver  waiter, 
he  handed  it  to  Lord  Ruthven,  who  took 
it  hurriedly,  and  tore  it  open  with  visi 
ble  agitation.  The  letter  contained  these 
lines : 

"  For  Lord  RutJixen. 

"  MY  LOED  :  You  have  twice,  with 
great  courtesy,  expressed  your  good- 
wishes,  in  bidding  me  farewell — it  is  I 
who  go  from  Williamsburg  the  first,  now  : 
and  I  can  do  no  less  than  reciprocate 
your  lordship's  obliging  sentiments,  and 
express  the  hope  that  you  may  enjoy 
health  and  happiness,  whether  in  Vir 
ginia  or  in  Scotland. 

"  Having  terminated  my  business  at 
the  capital  in  a  briefer  space  of  time 
than  I  supposed  I  should  do,  I  am  just 
getting  into  the  saddle  to  return  to  the 
mountains.  Should  your  lordship  ever 
find  it  suit  your  convenience,  a  visit  to 
my  little  cottage  there  would  greatly 
please  Your  lordship's 

"  Very  obedient  servant, 

"EDMUND  IXNIS." 

Lord  Ruthven  drew  a  long  breath, 
and  then  turned  to  the  servant  who  had 
brought  the  letter. 

"Who  left  this?"  he  said. 

"Mr.  Innis  himself,  my  lord.  He 
was  riding  by  with  young  Mr.  Gary." 

"On  a  journey?" 

"Yes,  my  lord." 

Lord  Ruthven  looked  at  the  letter — 
glanced  then  at  the  governor's — tore  up 
what  he  had  written,  and  said  to  Fergus 
in  a  low  tone  : 


22 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"  As  there  is  no  further  danger,  you 
need  not  ride  to-day." 

Fergus  bowed. 

As  he  left  the  room,  he  muttered  in 
Gaelic  as  before : 

"It  is  fated!" 

An  hour  afterward,  his  excellency 
the  governor  received  a  note  from  Lord 
Ruthven,  saying  that,  in  order  not  to  sub 
ject  his  excellency  to  inconvenience,  he 
would  abandon  for  the  present  his  in 
tended  voyage,  which  nevertheless  might 
be  rendered  necessary  at  any  moment. 

Having  dispatched  this  reply,  Lord 
Ruthven  shut  himself  up,  locked  his 
door,  and,  drawing  from  a  secret  pocket 
in  his  breast  a  book,  began  to  write  in  it. 

"  Fatality — that  is  strong !  "  he  said 
in  a  low  tone,  "  but  the  will  of  a  man — 
is  th at  nothing?  I  have  willed — naught 
shall  move  me !  " 


IX. 

Df    WHICH   THE    HISTORY    PASSES    TO    THE 
MOUNTAINS. 

THE  current  of  the  narrative  bears 
us  now  from  "Williamsburg  toward  the 
mountains. 

It  was  there  that  the  singular  drama 
we  essay  to  unfold  before  the  reader 
was  to  find  its  stage,  or  at  least  to  play 
its  chief  scenes ;  and,  by  accompanying 
him  who  is  the  main  personage,  we  shall 
witness  what  occurred. 

The  note  for  Lord  Ruthven  had  been 
delivered  at  the  door  of  the  Raleigh  by 
Edmund  Innis,  as  he  passed,  on  horse 
back,  along  Gloucester  Street,  directing 
his  course  toward  the  Blue  Ridge.  Be 
side  him  rode  a  young  gentleman,  with 
pale-blue  eyes,  chestnut  curls,  and  laugh 
ing  lips. 

Philip,  or  Phil  Gary,  as  everybody 
called  him,  was  about  the  age  of  Innis, 
that  is  to  say,  twenty-two  or  three, 
graceful,  vigorous,  and  active  in  every 


movement,  clad  in  a  velvet  hunting-suit, 
with  innumerable  pockets ;  and  from  his 
cocked  hat  floated  a  handsome  feather. 
It  would  be  impossible  to  imagine  any 
thing  more  joyous,  gallant,  and  redolent 
of  youth,  than  his  smile.  Life  brimmed 
for  him,  with  gayety,  enjoyment,  and  the 
charming  zest  which  accompanies  the 
first  years  of  manhood — very  plainly,  the 
inexorable  ennui  which  lies  at  the 
foundation  of  human  life,  as  says  Bos- 
suet,  had  never  touched  him  with  its 
chilling  finger.  Jest,  laughter,  merri 
ment,  overflowed  in  him;  you  would  have 
said  that  this  young  human  being  was 
glad  that  he  was  alive. 

Beside  Innis,  somewhat  sad  and 
thoughtful,  Phil  Gary  resembled  a  sun 
beam  plunging  through  foliage  into  some 
shadowy  nook  ;  he  sang,  laughed,  rallied 
his  companion,  looking  on  all  sides  with 
his  roving  glance,  and  turning  all  he  saw 
into  comedy. 

"  Come,  old  fellow !  "  he  exclaimed, 
"  what's  the  matter  ?  Laugh,  I  say  !  " 

u  At  what,  Phil  ?  "  said  Innis,  smil 
ing. 

"  At  every  thing,  or  nothing.  What's 
the  use  of  sighing  ? " 

"I  am  not  sighing." 

"Well,  you  are  thinking  —  that's 
equally  bad." 

"  Don't  you  ever  think?  " 

"  Never !  I  sing." 

And  Phil  Gary  burst  forth  into  a 
song  which  made  the  forest,  through 
which  they  were  passing,  echo  again. 

"  Very  good !  "  he  said  when  he  had 
finished  his  song;  "I  know  what  you  are 
thinking  of." 

"What?" 

"  I  mean  what  person." 

"  Tell  me." 

"  Of  Honoria." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  Innis,  coloring  ; 
"  why  should  I  waste  my  time  in — in — 
what  you  mean?  And  yet,  Phil —  I 
might  retort  and  say  that  you  were 
thinking  of — her  elder  sister  ?  " 


THE   HISTORY  PASSES  TO   THE   MOUNTAINS. 


23 


"  Wrong !  I  never  indulge  in  that 
folly." 

"  Then  my  fair  cousin  Lou  and  your 
self  have  quarrelled." 

"  Not  in  the  least.  All  the  quarrel 
ling  is  done  by  the  old  lady — my  vener 
able  mamma  in  the  coach  yonder." 
"  Look  ;  she  is  calling  you." 
In  fact,  there  was  seen  in  front  a 
large  family  chariot,  drawn  by  four 
horses ;  and  from  the  window  waved  a 
white  handkerchief.  Mr.  Phil  Gary 
obeyed  this  summons,  and,  putting  spur 
to  his  horse,  was  soon  beside  the  coach, 
which  was  occupied  by  an  elderly  lady 
in  black  silk. 

"Philip,  my  dear,"  said  the  elderly 
lady,    drawing    down   a    large  pair  of 
glasses  until  they  rested  upon  her  nose, 
and  gazing  over  them. 
"  Well,  mamma." 

"  Did  you  write  in  my  name  to  Mrs. 
Byrd  to  say  that  we  should  stop  at 
Westover?" 

"  Yes,  my  respected  mamma." 
"  In  time  ?  " 

"Full  time;  you  see  there  are  some 
young  ladies  there  on  a  visit ;  and  as  I 
am  in  pursuit  of  a  wife — " 

"  Nonsense,  Philip !  why  will  you 
run  on  in  that  absurd  manner?  " 

"  Absurd,  my  dear  madam  ?  I  think 
'tis  the  most  intelligent  thing  I  could 
do." 

The  scapegrace  turned  his  head  as  he 
spoke  and  winked  at  Innis,  who  had 
ridden  up. 

"  Why  think  of  marriage  for  a  dozen 
years  to  come  ?  " 

"  Behold,"  cried  Mr.  Phil  Gary,  "  the 
most  unreasonable  of  her  sex !  May  I 
request  to  be  informed  of  my  age,  my 
dear  madam  ? " 

"You  are  twenty-three  in  Novem 
ber." 

"And  the  age  of  my  papa  when  he 
married  my  mamma  ?  " 

"There,  there,  Philip— let  us  not 
speak  so  lightly— I  was  wrong  perhaps, 


but  you  are  my  only  stay  now ;  you  must 
remember  that,  my  dear." 

The  young  man  became  for  a  moment 
serious,  and  said : 

"My  dear  mother,  there  is  no  danger 
of  my  leaving  you.  A  wife  ! — what  do 
I  want  with  a  wife  ?  Rest  easy  on  that 
score." 

After  which  assurance,  he  rode  on 
with  Innis,  in  advance  of  the  coach, 
which,  heavily  laden  with  huge  trunks 
went  creaking  on  its  way. 

I  know  nothing  more  delightful  than 
a  horseback  journey  through  the  varie 
gated  forest,  in  the  brilliant,  breezy 
autumn,  when  youth  and  health  give  a  ' 
zest  to  existence,  and  the  wind  in  the 
foliage  whispers  its  mysterious  secrets. 
Then  the  fresh  breeze  laughs — in  riper 
age  it  sighs.  To  be  young  is  the  secret ! 
— to  ride  then  through  the  splendid, 
many-colored  forest,  the  cream  of  earth 
ly  enjoyment. 

I  should  like  to  pause  at  "  Westover," 
where  the  travellers  were  received  with 
warm  hospitality.  But  these  old  in 
teriors  interest  few  persons  to  -  day. 
"  Westover,"  the  home  once  of  Colonel 
William  Byrd,  the  haunt  of  starry-eyed 
maidens,  passes,  as  on  a  moving  canvas, 
and  our  party  continue  their  way.  They 
halted  again  at  "  Belvidere,"  on  the  site 
of  the  present  city  of  Richmond,  where 
they  were  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  sweet 
murmur  of  the  falls  in  the  river— then 
they  stopped  at  "  Dungeonness  " — the 
home  of  Mr.  Randolph  in  Goochland — 
then  a  long  day's  journey  brought  them 
in  sight  of  "Elmwood,"  the  mansion  of 
Mrs.  Gary. 

On  the  horizon  were  seen  "Blen 
heim,"  "Carysbrook,"  and  other  ancient 
mansions;  and,  sparkling  like  a  fallen 
star,  with  a  last  beam  of  the  sun  which 
fell  upon  its  windows,  "  Rivanna  "  crown 
ing  its  lofty  hill  and  dominating  the 
whole  region. 

This  enchanting  land  of  field  and 
forest,  through  which  ran  sparkling  like 


24 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


threads  of  silver  the  Rivanna  and  its 
affluents,  was  bounded  in  the  west  by 
the  deep-blue  mountain,  extending  from 
north  to  south  like  a  long  surge  of  the 
ocean.  Above  it  spread  the  purple  flush 
of  sunset;  against  this  exquisite  back 
ground  every  azure  crest  stood  out  in 
clear  relief;  and  a  flock  of  birds  moving 
on  slow  wings  amid  the  gray  clouds, 
sunk  down  toward  the  fairy-land  of  sun 
set. 

Innis  gazed  from  the  portico  of  "  Elm- 
wood  "  at  this  beautiful  scene — slowly 
turned  his  eyes  toward  the  lofty  hill 
crowned  by  "  Rivanna  "  —  and  mur 
mured  with  a  happy  smile  : 

"  I  shall  see  her  soon !  " 


X. 

HONORIA   BRAND. 

INNIS  yielded  to  the  importunities  of 
Phil  Gary,  and  spent  the  night  at  Elm- 
wood  ;  but  at  sunrise  was  again  in  the 
saddle,  and  on  his  way  to  "Rivanna," 
where  his  friend  promised  soon  to  join 
him. 

The  variegated  foliage  was  fresh, 
dewy,  and  sonorous  with  the  "  caw  caw  " 
of  the  crows.  That  familiar  sound 
struck  on  the  ear  of  Innis  with  delight, 
and  he  went  on  at  a  gallop,  full  of  joy, 
reaching  finally  the  summit  of  a  hill 
within  half  a  mile  of  the  old  country- 
house.  There  he  checked  his  horse,  and 
looked  for  some  moments  with  admira 
tion  on  the  prospect.  To  the  loft  were 
circling  hills,  abrupt,  heavily  clothed 
with  evergreens,  and  cut  by  the  foaming 
current  of  a  mountain-stream,  above 
which  towered  mighty  masses  of  rock 
full  of  wild  and  picturesque  beauty.  In 
front  and  to  the  right  the  ground  trended 
off  into  charming  slopes,  dotted  with 
oaks  and  ash-trees,  and  a  rustic  bridge 
was  thrown  across  the  stream  below. 
On  a  commanding  eminence  beyond, 
standing  proudly  amid  the  great  oaks  of 


the  extensive  grounds,  was  "Rivanna," 
with  its  white  portico,  broad  wings, 
stacks  of  chimneys,  and  long  rows  of 
quarters,  the  whole  lit  up  by  the  gold 
of  sunrise. 

Innis  stopped  for  a  few  moments  only. 
Something  besides  the  landscape  evident 
ly  attracted  him.  He  put  spur  to  his 
horse,  galloped  down  the  hill,  crossed 
the  bridge,  and  passed  through  a  tall 
gate,  with  ornamental  capitals  on  the 
posts,  into  the  grounds  of  the  mansion. 
Suddenly  he  drew  rein  and  uttered  a  joy 
ous  exclamation. 

Within  twenty  paces  of  him  stood  a 
young  lady,  leaning  against  the  trunk  of 
one  of  the  great  oaks,  looking  toward 
him,  blushing  a  little,  and  smiling. 

Innis  threw  himself  from  the  saddle 
rather  than  dismounted,  and,  hastening 
toward  the  young  lady,  exclaimed — 
"Honoria!" 

She  came  toward  him  with  her  fresh 
cheeks  just  tinted  with  roses,  pushing 
back  some  brown  curls  from  her  fore 
head,  and  holding  out  a  small  hand. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  come  back, 
Edmund,"  she  said,  simply. 

"  And  I  am  happy  for  the  first  time 
since  I  left  you,  Honoria." 

There  was  something  ardent,  earnest, 
and  moving,  in  the  voice  of  the  speaker. 
His  companion  did  not  blush,  but  a 
quick  light  filled  the  great  soft  eyes,  and 
an  exquisite  expression  of  happiness,  at 
once  trustful  and  timid,  came  to  her  lips. 
The  sunrise  fell  upon  her  as  she  stood 
thus,  and  seemed  to  caress  her.  She  was 
not  more  than  eighteen,  with  a  slender 
figure,  which  swayed  naturally  as  she 
moved  on  her  little  feet,  and  a  complexion 
all  lilies  and  roses.  What  was  better 
than  the  lilies  and  roses,  the  white  neck 
bending  like  a  swan's,  and  the  whole 
physique  of  this  gracious  creature,  was 
the  modesty  of  her  glance  and  smile — a 
certain  winning  sweetness— whixjh  said, 
"  I  am  pure,"  as  the  snow  says,  "  I  am 
white." 


BIRTHS,   DEATHS,  AND   MARRIAGES. 


25 


Her  hand  lay  for  a  moment  in  that  of 
Edmund  Innis,  and  then  was  withdrawn, 
J>ut  without  affectation  or  mock  prudery. 

As  they  walked  up  the  hill,  Innis 
leading  his  horse  by  the  bridle,  the  feel 
ings  of  the  youth  were  translated  in  his 
glances,  which  dwelt  upon  the  fresh  face 
beside  him  with  an  expression  which  left 
nothing  in  doubt.  Eager,  tender,  their 
light  veiled,  as  it  were,  by  happiness,  the 
eyes  of  the  youth  betrayed  his  secret. 

"When  did  you  leave  Williams- 
burg?" 

"  Three  days  ago." 

"  You  came  alone  ?  " 

"  With  our  friends  of  Elm  wood." 

"  That  must  have  made  the  journey 
pleasant." 

"Very  pleasant." 

Does  the  reader  wish  to  have  record 
ed  any  more  of  this  thrilling  conversa 
tion?  I  spare  him.  Why  should  not 
youth  and  love  play  their  parts  unseen  ? 
Why  repeat  the  commonplaces  under 
which  the  heart  beats  ?  The  words  ut 
tered  are  nothing — the  aim  of  each  is  to 
hear  the  other's  voice.  So  on  this  morn 
ing,  full  of  sunshine,  foliage,  freshness, 
and  charm,  the  young  man  and  the  girl 
walked  beside  each  other,  exchanging 
nothings,  which  were  better  than  wit. 

A  short  walk  beneath  the  great  oaks, 
over  a  path  gradually  ascending,  brought 
them  in  front  of  the  long  porches  of  the 
great  mansion. 

Innis  entered,  Honoria  ran  to  an 
nounce  his  arrival  to  her  mother,  and 
the  young  man  went  into  the  library. 

Before  him  sat,  in  a  great  arm-chair, 
Colonel  Brand. 


XI. 

BIETH8,    DEATHS,    AND   MARRIAGES. 

OF  "Rivanna"  and  its  owner  it  is 
necessary  to  say  a  few  words  before  pro 
ceeding  further  in  this  narrative. 

The  house  had  been  built  by  Colonel 


Seaton,  a  prominent  gentleman  of  the 
colony,  who,  attracted  by  the  beauty  and 
fertility  of  the  Piedmont  country,  had 
purchased  a  great  estate  here,  sent  to  Eng 
land  for  workmen  and  materials,  and 
erected  this  fine  mansion,  at  the  then  ex- 
tremest  limits  of  civilization. 

It  is  the  hard  fate  of  the  rich  to  have 
some  nail  in  the  shoe.  Colonel  Seaton's 
nail  was  the  want  of  children.  The 
great  house  was  dreary  without  them ; 
and  when  one  day  he  was  informed  that 
his  brother  and  his  sister  had  died,  leav 
ing  each  a  little  girl  without  a  home,  he 
went  and  brought  the  children  to  Ri 
vanna,  adopted  them  as  his  own,  and,  on 
the  death  of  his  wife  some  years  after 
ward,  gave  his  whole  attention  to  the 
task  of  rearing  them  as  joint  heiresses  of 
his  estate. 

The  elder  of  the  two  cousins  was  his 
favorite  in  spite  of  her  high-spirited  and 
somewhat  restive  character.  But  the 
moment  came  when  this  affection  sus 
tained  a  heavy  blow.  The  young  girl 
married  Mr.  Edmund  Innis,  an  amiable 
and  honorable  but  thriftless  gentleman 
of  the  neighborhood ;  and  Colonel  Sea- 
ton,  who  had  opposed  the  alliance  in 
every  manner  possible,  made  his  niece  a 
low  bow,  and  informed  her  that  thence 
forth  they  were  to  be  strangers. 

The  separation  soon  became  more 
complete  still.  Colonel  Seaton  died. 
When  his  will  was  opened  it  was  found 
that  he  had  left  the  great  estate  of  Ri 
vanna  to  his  younger  niece,  and  to  the 
eldest  nothing. 

The  younger  was  thus  a  great  heiress, 
and  suitors  promptly  appeared.  None, 
however,  pleased  the  young  lady,  and, 
weary  of  the  wilderness,  she  went  to 
spend  the  winter  in  Williams!) urg. 

There  her  fate  met  her.  Mr.  Brand, 
of  an  ancient  family  and  a  great  estate, 
paid  his  addresses.  He  was  handsome, 
he  was  courtly,  he  had  made  the  grand 
tour,  he  threw  his  money  about  in  the 
grandest  style ;  and,  until  his  marriage 


26 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


with  the  young  lady,  which  in  due  time 
took  place,  it  was  not  discovered  that 
the  splendid  suitor  was  bankrupt;  his 
luxury  and  seeming  affluence  a  hollow 
shell,  covering  —  hopeless  debt.  His 
wealthy  marriage,  however,  rescued  him 
from  ruin ;  his  old  associates  lost  sight 
of  him  ;  he  had  become  a  staid  and  im 
posing  personage — the  worshipful  Colo 
nel  Brand,  of  Rivanna. 

Years  passed,  and  two  daughters  were 
born  to  Colonel  Brand ;  when  this  his 
tory  opens  they  were  approaching  wom 
anhood.  Meanwhile,  the  elder  cousin, 
Mrs.  Innis,  gradually  saw  poverty  closing 
in  upon  her.  Her  husband  was  a  gentle 
man  of  the  highest  character,  but  be 
longed  to  that  class  of  persons  with 
whom  every  thing  fails.  Some  men 
have  only  to  touch  lead  to  turn  it  to 
gold.  Mr.  Innis  had  only  to  touch  gold 
to  turn  it  into  lead.  He  had  possessed  a 
considerable  property — as  he  advanced 
in  life  it  dwindled.  In  ten  years  more, 
he  would  have  been  thrown  homeless  on 
the  world,  when,  fortunately  or  unfor 
tunately,  he  died,  leaving  his  widow 
with  an  only  son,  and  in  possession  of 
but  a  small  remnant  of  the  once  ample 
estate  of  the  Innises. 

What  is  it  that  a  mother  does  when 
her  husband  dies,  leaving  her  with  one 
darling  child  only  ?  She  almost  always 
spoils  the  child :  and  Mrs.  Innis  did  all 
in  her  power  to  spoil  Edmund.  She  did 
not  succeed.  There  was  something  in 
the  boy  too  proud,  intelligent,  and  noble, 
to  be  warped ;  and,  when  his  mother 
died,  in  his  eighteenth  year,  clasping  him 
with  her  last  remains  of  strength  to  her 
poor  heart,  she  left  him  simple,  sweet- 
tempered,  and  unselfish. 

The  hard  hand  of  loneliness  thus 
came  to  press  upon  the  boy,  as  he 
touched  the  threshold  of  manhood.  Im 
mured  in  his  little  house,  resembling 
rather  a  hunting-lodge  than  a  dwelling, 
in  a  gash  of  the  mountain,  he  saw  far 
beneath  him  in  the  plain,  "Rivanna," 


"  Carysbrook,"  "  Castlehill,"  and  the 
happy  homes  of  happy  families,  while 
one  or  two  old  servants,  who  would  not 
desert  him,  were  the  only  human  beings 
near  him,  and  a  few  books  were  his 
only  other  company.  Then  a  new  re 
source  suddenly  presented  itself. 

The  cousins — his  mother  and  Lady 
Brand,  as  the  wife  of  the  lordly  colonel 
was  colloquially  called,  in  accordance 
with  a  usage  not  uncommon  in  colo 
nial  Virginia — had  had  no  intercourse. 
This,  it  must  be  said,  was  the  fault  of 
Mrs.  Innis,  who,  proud,  sensitive,  and 
high-spirited,  would  respond  to  no  over 
tures,  and  resolutely  declined  intercourse 
with  those  who  had  spoken  ill,  she  be 
lieved,  of  her  husband.  Death  had  come 
now  to  heal  this  breach.  The  sod  had 
scarce  closed  over  the  poor  lady,  when 
Lady  Brand  came  in  her  coach  up  the 
mountain-road — entered  the  little  house 
— went  up  to  Edmund,  who  was  'about 
to  receive  her  with  a  bow,  and,  clasping 
her  arms  around  him,  kissed  him,  and 
said,  with  tears  in  her  eyes : 

"  My  poor  child,  you  must  not  stay 
here  in  your  solitary  home.  You  are 
my  blood,  and  I  love  you  very  much,  as 
I  loved  dear  Anna.  You  must  love  me 
a  little  in  return." 

Thereat  the  boy  melted,  and  sobbed 
in  the  good  lady's  arms. 

An  hour  afterward  they  were  at  "Ri 
vanna,"  and  Edmund  saw  two  young 
ladies  of  twelve  and  fourteen  come  tow 
ard  him,  offering  their  lips— in  accord 
ance  with  instructions — to  their  cousin. 

Thenceforth  the  life  of  Innis  changed. 
A  large  part  of  his  time  was  spent  at 
Rivanna  ;  and,  in  course  of  years,  he 
found  it  wellnigh  impossible  to  remain 
absent.  The  girl  of  twelve  became  the 
maiden  of  fifteen,  then  the  young  lady 
of  eighteen ;  and  Innis  passionately  loved 
her.  Grave,  calm,  and  serene  in  man 
ner,  the  youth  possessed  strong  impulses 
and  ardent  aspirations.  Solitude  grew 
distasteful,  books  wearied  him — Honoria 


BIRTHS,   DEATHS,  AND   MARRIAGES. 


27 


was  ever  before  his  eyes ;  and,  mounting 
his  thorough-bred,  one  of  the  few  luxu 
ries  left  him,  he  would  go  to  Rivanna, 
spend  whole  days,  and  drink  deeper  and 
deeper  draughts  of  that  most  intoxicating 
of  beverages — first  love ! 

Nothing  hitherto  had  come  to  mar 
his  happiness.  Lady  Brand,  whom  he 
called  "  aunt,"  received  him  always  with 
the  tenderest  affection ;  Lou,  the  elder 
of  the  two  girls,  was  his  warm  friend, 
and  even  the  stiff  colonel  made  him 
stately  bows,  and  overwhelmed  him  with 
distinguished  consideration — for  the  colo 
nel  was  given  to  "deportment." 

Of  Honoria's  feelings,  the  narrative 
will  present  a  fuller  view  than  is  here 
possible.  A  few  words  more  will  con 
vey  a  correct  conception  of  Innis's  situa 
tion  and  plans  when  our  history  com 
mences. 

He  was  twenty -three  —  passionately 
in  love  with  his  cousin,  the  daughter  of 
a  gentleman  of  large  wealth — poor,  and 
doing  nothing.  At  that  thought  the 
very  soul  of  Innis  revolted  within  him. 
He  thought  with  bitterness  of  his  prob 
able  future  —  of  visiting  Rivanna  thus, 
year  after  year,  in  the  character  of  a 
"poor  relation"  —  of  one  day  seeing 
Honoria  give  her  hand  to  some  glit 
tering  youth,  forgetting  him  ;  and  of 
growing  old,  uncared  for,  and  forgotten 
in  his  lonely  lodge,  buried  in  its  lugubri 
ous  pines.  That  thought  had  come  day 
after  day  to  cut  Innis  like  a  sharp  blade 
to  the  very  heart.  His  once  ruddy  cheek 
grew  pale  with  bitter  meditation.  With 
the  prejudice  of  race,  at  that  time  preva 
lent,  he  shrank  from  trade — he  had  no 
means  to  enter  the  professions — what 
was  left  him  but  to  mope  and  dream, 
growing  gray  and  sombre  in  his  sombre 
dwelling — bending  lower  year  by  year 
beneath  the  inexorable  weight  which 
bows  the  strongest  shoulders  toward  the 
tomb  ? 

These  thoughts  preyed  upon  him,  as 
the  worm  preys  on  the  bud,  and  his 


cheeks  grew  so  pale  that  Lady  Brand 
said  one  day : 

"  You  are  pining,  Edmund ;  what  is 
the  reason  ? " 

"  I  am  twenty-three,  and  am  doing 
nothing,  aunt." 

"  Well,  why  remain  idle  ? " 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  " 

"Make  yourself  the  first  counsellor 
in  the  colony — you  have  the  intellect." 

Innis  felt  his  pulse  throb.  Then  his 
head  sunk. 

"I  cannot,  aunt.  I  have  no  means  to 
study." 

Lady  Brand  smiled. 

"  Listen,  Edmund :  my  connection, 
Mr.  Wythe,  at  William sburg,  wishes  a 
young  gentleman  in  his  office ;  he  is 
growing  old,  and  requires  assistance  in 
transcribing  his  law -papers.  He  will 
receive  you  into  his  house  as  one  of  the 
family  gladly,  in  return  for  your  services, 
and  instruct  you  in  law  besides — " 

11  Me,  aunt?" 

"  I  say  you,  my  child,  because  he  of 
fers  to  do  so  in  this  letter." 

She  looked  at  him  with  her  kind 
eyes  and  smile,  holding  toward  him  the 
letter. 

"  Why  should  I  not  scheme  to  set  my 
boy  up  in  the  world,  like  other  people  ? " 

Innis  had  his  arms  around  her,  ere 
she  had  finished,  and  kissed  her. 

"  Dear  aunt ! — you  are  very  good  to 
me!" 

"  Don't  thank  me  for  only  doing  my 
duty,  Edmund.  And  now,  I  think  it 
best  that  you  should  go  and  see  Mr. 
Wythe." 

"  I  will  set  out  to-morrow,  aunt.  Oh, 
I  assure  you,  I  am  not  disposed  to  de 
lay." 

"  I  will  give  you  an  early  breakfast, 
then,  my  son  ;  and  may  God  guide  you !  " 

On  the  very  next  day  Innis  was,  ac 
cordingly,  on  his  way  to  Williamsburg, 
which  he  reached  in  due  time.  The  ven 
erable  Mr.  Wythe  greeted  him  cordially. 
It  was  arranged  that  he  should  come  to 


28 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


live  in  his  office  on  the  first  of  the  ensu 
ing  January,  and  Innis  returned,  as  the 
reader  has  seen. 

TVhat  befell  him  in  Williamsburg  has 
been  recorded ;  what  occurred  on  his  re 
turn  will  now  be  related. 


XII. 

AT   EIV ANITA. 

COLONEL  BRAND  was  seated  in  his 
large  arm-chair  of  carved  oak,  with  Span 
ish-leather  covering — a  tall  and  portly  in 
dividual,  ruddy  of  face  from  high  living, 
with  gray  side-whiskers,  and  formal  air, 
and  clad  in  imposing  costume.  His  face 
and  bearing  said  :  "  I  am  the  lord  of  the 
manor ;  you  common  people  will  be  good 
enough  to  bow  down  to  me!  "  Pie  even 
held  the  number  of  the  Virginia  Gazette 
which  he  was  reading  with  a  stately  air, 
as  of  a  superior  mortal,  who  performed 
an  act  of  condescension  in  perusing  what 
common  people  had  written. 

Innis  entered,  and,  approaching, 
bowed  to  the  colonel,  who  rose  slowly 
— for  it  was  a  part  of  his  social  philoso 
phy  never  to  omit  any  form  of  courtesy 
—and  grandly  held  out  two  fingers.  In 
nis  took  them  ;  the  colonel  submitted  to 
the  ceremony  without  responding  in  any 
manner  to  the  pressure  bestowed  upon 
the  two  digits ;  and  then  came,  in  stiff 
and  formal  tones : 

"You  have  just  returned  from  the 
capital,  I  believe?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Innis,  taking  the 
seat  which  the  colonel  indicated  with  a 
stately  wave  of  the  hand. 
"Hum!  " 

The  colonel  cleared  his  throat  in  a 
formal  manner,  and  resumed  his  seat. 

"  Perhaps  you  bring  some  intelligence 
of  interest,"  he  said,  raising  his  chin, 
and  slowly  passing  his  jewelled  hand  be 
neath  that  portion  of  his  person. 

"Scarcely  any  thing,  sir,"  replied  In 
nis;  "  my  stay,  as  you  know,  was  brief." 


Colonel  Brand  made  an  inclination 
with  his  head,  as  though  to  protest 
against  being  supposed  to  remember,  or 
be  aware  of,  a  fact  so  very  unimportant 
as  the  duration  of  the  young  man's  ab 
sence. 

"  His  excellency  is  well,  I  trust  ?  " 
"  I  believe  so,  sir." 
"  You  saw  him  ?  " 

"I  did  not,  sir,  except  -when  he  was 
passing  to  his  coach  one  day." 

"I  have  the  honor  to  enjoy  his  lord 
ship's  acquaintance.  You  saw  none  of 
the  council  or  his  excellency's  suite?  " 

"  Yes,  sir — I  chanced  to  make  the  ac 
quaintance  of  Lord  Ruthven,  his  secre 
tary." 

"  Lord  Ruth ven  ?" 
"Yes,    sir;    a  nobleman  from   Scot 
land,  I  believe." 

The  colonel  seemed  suddenly  inter 
ested. 

"  A  gentleman  of— let  me  see— hum ! 
from  sixty-five  to  seventy  ?  " 

"  Scarce  as  old  as  forty,  I  think,  sir." 
"  Then  'tis  not  my  Lord  Ruthvcn  of 
Perthshire." 

"  You  knew  his  lordship,  sir?  " 
"  Well— indeed— hum !— I  may  speak 
of  his   lordship   as  my  personal  friend, 
and  I  possess  and  highly  value  a  portrait 
of  him  which  I  have — his  own  gift." 

"  The  Lord  Ruthven  of  his  excellen 
cy's  suite  may  be  the  elder  nobleman's 
son." 

"  True  ;  what  is  his  personal  appear 
ance  ?  " 

"  Very  pale,  with  black  hair  and  eyes, 
and  of  grave  demeanor." 

"  The  same ;  no  doubt  'tis  the  son  of 
the  elder  lord,  who  may  have  died  re 
cently." 

Innis  looked  around  for  the  portrait 
of  the  elder  Lord  Ruthven ;  it  was  no 
where  to  be  seen. 

Colonel  Brand  seemed  to  have  dis 
missed  the  subject.  "With  imposing  grav 
ity  he  began  : 

"The  intelligence  from  England,   I 


AT   RIVANNA. 


29 


perceive,  sir — hum ! — "  when,  unfortu 
nately  for  his  stately  discourse,  the 
breakfast-bell  rang ;  and,  rising,  the  colo 
nel  approached  the  door,  and,  moving 
slightly  aside,  waved  his  hand  for  Innis 
to  precede  him. 

"  After  you,  sir,"  said  the  youth, 
courteously. 

"  I  beg  you  will  proceed,  sir,"  said 
the  colonel,  with  stately  condescension. 

Innis  smiled  and  obeyed.  They  en 
tered  the  breakfast-room,  and  a  tall, 
elderly  lady,  very  graceful  and  attractive 
still,  came  from  behind  the  urn,  and,  put 
ting  her  arms  around  the  youth,  kissed 
him  affectionately. 

Then  Miss  Lou  Brand,  tall  like  her 
mother,  with  dancing,  hazel  eyes,  a  su 
perb  complexion,  dazzling  teeth  between 
rosy  lips,  and  an  air  of  gayety,  mischief, 
and  abandon,  came  and  greeted  him 
warmly.  Honoria  entered  and  took  her 
place,  and  breakfast  proceeded. 

"  Where  is  Meta,  aunt  ?  "  said  Innis 
to  Lady  Brand. 

"  I  have  no  idea,  Edmund  ;  not  mak 
ing  her  toilet,  for  she  is  an  earlier  riser 
than  any  one  in  the  household." 

"  I  fancied  I  saw  her  at  one  of  the 
windows  as  I  came  up  the  hill." 

A  species  of  inarticulate  murmur  was 
heard  behind  the  youth  ;  he  turned  quick 
ly.  On  the  threshold  of  the  apartment 
stood  a  singular  figure. 

The  new-comer  was  a  girl,  apparent 
ly  about  fifteen,  of  very  extraordinary 
beauty,  but  with  something  wild  and 
elfish  in  her  appearance.  She  wore  a 
dress  of  the  most  brilliant  and  variegated 
colors,  and  superb  dark  hair  fell  in  huge 
masses  of  curls  upon  both  shoulders. 
Her  eyes  were  dark,  subtile,  and  penetrat 
ing,  and  were  fixed  intently  upon  Innis. 

He  rose  quickly,  and  went  and  held 
out  his  hand,  with  a  smile,  saying  : 

"How  do  you  do,  Meta?" 

The  girl  coldly  refused  the  hand,  and, 
without  uttering  a  sound,  went  to  her 
place  at  the  table. 


"  Something  has  offended  Meta,"  said 
Lady  Brand,  in  a  low  tone. — "  Do  not 
take  any  notice  of  her,  Edmund  ;  it  is 
the  best  way." 

The  youth  resumed  his  seat ;  break 
fast  went  upon  its  way ;  the  stately  lord 
of  the  manor  rose  and  returned  to  the 
library ;  and  an  hour  afterward  Innis 
was  seated  in  his  aunt's  chamber,  inform 
ing  her  of  the  fortunate  results  of  his 
journey.  He  had  made  every  arrange 
ment  to  enter  Mr.  Wythe's  office  on  the 
first  of  January. 

"  Heaven  be  thanked  that  you  have 
been  so  fortunate,  my  son !  "  said  the 
worthy  lady,  busily  knitting  in  her  great 
chair ;  for,  like  a  good  Virginia  housewife, 
she  would  never  remain  idle.  "  ISTow  your 
career  in  life  is  open  to  you.  By  assidu 
ous  study  you  may  become,  not  only 
prosperous  but  distinguished ;  and  your 
old  aunt  will  be  as  happy  as  yourself." 

"  Dear  aunt,"  said  the  youth,  warm 
ly,  "•  how  good  you  are  to  me !  One 
would  really  suppose  that  I  was  some 
body." 

"  You  are  of  our  blood,  and  that  is 
very  good  blood,  too,  Edmund." 

"  But  I  am  very  poor." 

"  That  is  of  all  human  things  the 
least  important  to  a  young  man — it  is  a 
spur  to  exertion." 

"  But,  in  case  I  were  to — fall  in  love 
—aunt  ?  " 

"  Do  not  do  so  yet,  Edmund.  There 
is  time  enough  for  that,  as  my  friend 
Mrs.  Gary  is  always  telling  Phil." 

Innis  sighed. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  right,  aunt ;  but, 
in  case  I  were  to  find  my  affections  en 
gaged — to  love  some  one — then  poverty 
would  be  a  serious  bar,  I  fear." 

"Why  should  it,  if  you  are  energetic 
and  make  your  way?  Two  sorts  of 
wealth  exist  in  this  world,  Edmund — 
property  and  intellect.  If  your  intellect 
brings  you  revenue,  is  it  not  as  valuable 
as  landed  estate,  which  can  do  no  more  ? " 

"  The  land    is  much    more   certain, 


30 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


aunt ;  but  we  are  wandering  very  far. 
You  see  I  am  quite  fortunate  now,  and, 
thanks  to  you,  have  something  to  look 
forward  to.  Let  me  tell  you  of  my  ad 
ventures." 

And  Innis  related  the  incidents  con 
nected  with  Lord  Ruthven,  suppressing, 
however,  as  he  had  promised,  all  allu 
sion  to  the  singular  words  of  the  noble 
man. 

"  That  was  unfortunate,  Edmund,  but 
in  this  world  we  must  not  regret  too 
strongly  what  we  cannot  help.  You 
had  no  intention  to  injure  Lord  Ruth 
ven,  and,  fortunately,  he  has  recovered. 
These  accidents  are  sometimes  truly  un 
happy.  Meta,  you  know,  owes  her  loss 
of  reason  to  a  similar  fall." 
14  Is  it  possible,  aunt  ?  " 
44  Did  you  not  know  it  ?  " 
44  Strangely  enough,  I  did  not." 
41  We  rarely  allude  to  it,  and  never  in 
her  presence,  as  it  agitates  her  frightful 
ly.  Meta,  you  know,  is  the  only  daughter 
of  a  cousin  of  my  uncle,  Colonel  Seaton. 
Her  father  and  mother  are  both  dead, 
and  \ve  have  only  done  our  duty  in  tak 
ing  the  poor  orphan  to  our  arms.  She 
came  to  us  in  her  present  condition- 
dumb  and  bereft  of  sense.  When  about 
ten  years  of  age,  she  one  day  mounted  a 
spirited  young  horse ;  the  animal  ran 
away  and  threw  her  to  the  ground,  and 
in  fulling  her  head  struck  a  sharp  stone, 
which,  it  is  supposed,  drove  a  portion  of 
bone  in  upon  her  brain.  When  she  re 
covered  from  her  fall  the  poor  child  had 
lost  her  reason.  Truly,  the  ways  of 
Providence  are  past  finding  out.  And 
now  don't  let  me  detain  you,  Edmund. 
Old  people  must  not  monopolize  young 
people ;  and  yonder  comes  Philip  Gary, 
a  great  rattle-trap,  but  a  young  man  for 
whom  I  have  much  regard.  Come  back 
during  the  evening — I  like  to  see  as  much 
of  my  boy  as  I  can.  You  know  we  must 
soon  part." 


XIII. 

THE    PORTKAIT. 

REPLYING-  to  this  speech  of  the  good 
lady  by  an  affectionate  glance,  Innis 
rose,  left  the  chamber,  and  went  tow 
ard  the  staircase  leading  to  the  lower 
floor. 

As  he  did  so,  he  perceived  that  the 
door  of  a  small  apartment,  the  private 
dressing-room  of  Colonel  Brand,  which 
few  persons  ever  entered,  was  half  open. 
Glancing  idly  through  the  opening,  he 
found  his  attention  suddenly  arrested  by 
a  portrait  on  the  opposite  wall. 

This  portrait  was  the  most  perfect, 
the  most  astonishing  likeness  of  the  Lord 
Ruthven  of  Williamsburg  :  the  pale  face, 
with  its  black  hair  and  eyes,  seemed 
starting  from  the  canvas,  and  about  to 
speak  to  him. 

Innis  advanced  a  step,  and  looked 
long  and  intently  at  the  picture. 

44  The  very  face  !  "  he  said. 

And,  returning  to  Lady  Brand's  cham 
ber,  he  said : 

44  Aunt,  whose  portrait  hangs  in  the 
dressing-room  ?  " 

4;  That  with  the  white  face  and  black 
locks,  Edmund?" 

44  Yes,  aunt." 

44  'Tis  the  picture  of  Lord  Ruthven, 
of  Scotland,  a  former  friend  of  Colonel 
Brand's." 

44  Strange  that  I  never  before  saw  it." 

44  And  yet  the  explanation  is  simple, 
my  son.  The  portrait  originally  hung  in 
the  hall  down-stairs,  but  the  face  gave 
me  a  chill." 

44  A  chill  ?  " 

44  It  seemed  to  haunt  me,  with  its 
deep,  dark,  melancholy  eyes — its  ghostly 
stare.  So  I  begged  Colonel  Brand  to  re 
move  it ;  he  complied  with  my  request, 
and  it  hangs  now,  you  see,  in  his  private 
apartment." 

Innis  nodded. 

44  It  has  had  a  strange  effect  upon  me 
too,  aunt.  The  resemblance  is  striking 


META. 


31 


to  the  Lord  Ruthven  I  met  with  in  Wil- 
Harnsburg." 

"Ah,  indeed?" 

"  Yes  aunt — the  same  haunting  ex 
pression  in  the  eyes  of  the  portrait  is 
reproduced  in  the  eyes  of  the  son." 

"  The  son  ? " 

"Doubtless,  my  Williamsburg  ac 
quaintance  is  a  son  of  the  elder  lord." 

"Yes,  yes  — that  explains  the  like 
ness.  These  resemblances  of  father  and 
son  are  sometimes  truly  extraordinary. 
I  remember,  when  young  Mr.  Harrison 
came  to  see  us,  I  was  so  much  astonished 
by  his  likeness  to  his  father — " 

And  Lady  Brand  plunged  into  a 
story,  all  about  young  Mr.  Harrison,  his 
father,  who  had  once  been  a  very  inti 
mate  friend  of  hers,  and  other  persons 
connected  with  them. 

We  shall  not  inflict  the  good  lady's 
reminiscences  upon  the  reader.  When 
the  narrative  was  concluded,  Innis  rose, 
left  the  apartment,  stopped  again  in 
front  of  Colonel  Brand's  dressing-room, 
to  look,  at  the  portrait,  and  then  went 
down  the  stairs,  murmuring: 

"  I  could  swear  that  this  was  my 
Lord  Ruthven — or  his  ghost!  " 


XIV. 

META. 

INNIS  found  his  friend  Phil  Gary  up 
on  the  portico,  engaged  in  a  word-com 
bat  with  his  intimate  enemy,  Miss  Lou 
Brand,  between  whom  and  himself  ex 
isted  relations  of  permanent  hostility — 
or  very  great  liking — it  was  difficult  to 
say  which. 

They  certainly  struck  fire,  like  steel 
and  flint,  whenever  they  met ;  but  then 
they  apparently  could  not  remain  away 
from  each  other ;  gravitated  as  it  were 
together ;  and  were  much  too  aggressive 
and  provoking  to  be  indifferent. 

That  excellent  class  of  persons  who 
take  charge  of  the  affairs  of  their  neigh 


borhoods,  said  that  Miss  Lou  Brand  was 
extremely  fond  of  Mr.  Phil  Gary,  but 
had  confidentially  announced,  in  the 
secrecy  of  female  friendship,  that  she  in 
tended  to  "give  him  a  lesson."  Mr.  Phil 
Gary,  on  the  other  hand,  was  said  to  bo 
aware  of  this  dire  resolve  on  the  part 
of  his  enemy,  and  to  shape  his  course 
with  great  skill  in  accordance  therewith 
— proceeding  in  his  attentions  just  far 
enough  to  provoke  and  tantalize  Miss 
Brand,  but  carefully  refraining,  with 
covert  enjoyment  of  the  joke,  from  an 
avowal.  Such  were  the  relations  of  the 
young  people  —  circumstances  would 
doubtless  determine  the  result ;  mean 
while,  they  laughed  at  each  other,  held 
each  other  up  to  ridicule,  and  invariably- 
sought  out  each  other  in  society. 

Innis  smiled  as  he  passed  them,  and, 
inviting  his  friend  to  come  and  see  him, 
mounted  his  horse. 

"Remember  the  party  on  Wednes 
day!  "  Miss  Lou  called  out. 

"The  party?"  said  Innis. 

"  Haven't  you  heard  of  it  ?  We  ex 
pect  to  have  half  a  dozen  girls ;  they 
will  stay  for  a  week,  and  we  intend  to 
turn  night  into  day ! — it  will  be  delight 
ful!" 

"  Turning  night  into  day?  " 

"  Yes,  sir !  why  not  ?  Day  is  so 
stupid." 

"  And  then  the  fairer  portion  of 
creation  look  so  much  better  by  lamp 
light,"  said  Mr.  Gary,  meekly. 

The  young  lady  turned  upon  him 
instantly. 

"Why  should  not  girls  turn  night  into 
day,  if  they  fancy  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  echoed  Mr.  Phil  Gary 
— "  they  do  nothing." 

"  They  sew,  sir ! — and  that  is  better 
than  passing  the  time  in  idleness,  or 
eternally  hunting,  hunting,  as  is  the 
practice  of  some  people." 

A'  Do  you  really  sew  ?  "  said  Mr.  Gary, 
with  interest. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  as  your  lordship  is  aware, 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


we  are  the  weaker    species  of  vessels, 
and—" 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  had  lost  sight  of  that," 
interrupted  Mr.  Phil  Gary ;  "  you  there 
fore  sew,  and — am  I  wrong  in  supposing 
that  you  occasionally  talk  ?  " 

"  Wearisome !  " 

And,  turning  her  back  on  Mr.  Gary, 
Miss  Brand  returned  Innis's  bow,  and 
said : 

"Be  sure  to  come  on  Wednesday, 
and  stay  for  a  week  at  least,  Edmund. 
We  intend  to  have  a  charming  time,  and 
to  eat  the  dumb-cake" 

"What  is  that,  cousin?" 

"A  secret." 

A  smothered  laugh  behind  the  young 
lady  excited  her  sudden  indignation. 

"I  don't  believe  there  is  any  secret," 
said  Phil  Gary,  with  much  frankness; 
"  women  never  keep  secrets." 

What  followed  this  renewal  of  the 
assault,  Innis  did  not  observe;  he  left 
the  foes  in  the  midst  of  their  alterca 
tion,  and  rode  down  the  hill.  As  he 
went  along  slowly,  his  lips  wore  a  faint 
smile,  and  his  face  was  a  little  flushed. 
He  was  thinking  of  Honoria.  In  his 
absence,  she  had  grown  dearer  far  to 
him  than  before.  Now,  he  would  see 
her  again  for  a  few  weeks — then  he 
would  leave  her ;  time,  change,  vicissi 
tude,  would  work  their  will  on  each. 
When  should  he  see  her  again,  if  he  ever 
saw  her  ? 

The  young  man  was  going  along, 
buried  in  these  thoughts,  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  ground,  when  suddenly  his 
horse  shied  so  violently  that  he  was 
nearly  unseated. 

The  origin  of  this  fright  on  the  part 
of  the  animal  was  the  occurrence  of  a 
very  singular  incident.  From  the  great 
oak,  beneath  which  he  had  been  passing, 
had  suddenly  fallen,  within  five  paces, 
the  figure  of  the  girl  Meta.  A  sort  of 
rustic  bower  in  this  great,  wide-armed- 
tree,  was  indeed  a  favorite  haunt  of  the 
elf -like  maiden;  her  singular  agility 


enabled  her  to  mount  without  difficulty 
to  her  hiding-place  ;  and  here,  cradled 
in  foliage,  she  would  spend  hour  after 
hour,  gazing  at  the  sky,  the  passing 
clouds,  listening  to  the  twitter  of  the 
birds  amid  the  leaves,  or  baring  her 
brow  to  the  cooling  breeze.  As  Innis 
passed,  she  had  swung  from  a  drooping 
bough,  falling  as  lightly  as  a  cat  to  the 
turf  beneath,  and  now  stood  looking  at 
him  with  her  singularly-piercing  eyes 
framed  in  the  masses  of  black  curls 
descending  to  and  nearly  covering  her 
shoulders. 

The  expression  of  the  beautiful  face 
was  strange.  Anger,  regret,  tenderness 
— all  passed  in  turn  over  the  telltale 
countenance,  which  at  certain  moments 
reflected  what  was  passing  in  Meta's 
breast  so  plainly  that  words  were  un 
necessary.  Words,  indeed,  the  girl  had 
none.  Bereft  alike  of  speech  and  reason, 
this  poor  girl  was  nearly  cut  off  by  her 
misfortune  from  all  the  life  around  her. 
She  had  succeeded,  however,  in  making 
for  herself  a  species  of  language  of  signs 
and  gestures  —  Innis  understood  in  a 
measure  these  signs  —  and,  as  the  girl 
now  began  to  gesticulate  with  singular 
energy,  he  understood  that  she  was  ex 
pressing  regret  for  her  cold  reception  of 
him  upon  his  arrival. 

Innis  looked  at  the  young  face,  filled 
with  its  conflicting  emotions,  and  an  ex 
pression  of  pitying  kindness  came  to  his 
own. 

"  It  was  nothing,  Meta,"  he  said ;  "  I 
was  a  little  surprised,  'tis  true.  I  am 
not  hurt,  however,  and  will  not  even 
ask  you  why  you  thus  received  me.  I 
am  sure  of  your  affection  for  me,  and 
you  know  my  affection  for  you." 

The  head  sank  quickly,  and  tears 
came  to  the  girl's  eyes.  She  uttered 
some  inarticulate  sounds,  blushed,  trem 
bled,  then  with  a  quick  movement  seized 
the  young  man's  hand  and  kissed  it. 

A  few  moments  afterward  she  had 
disappeared,  running  with  inconceivable 


TWO   PICTURES. 


33 


rapidity  into  the  deepest  shades  of  the 
park. 

Innis  looked  after  her,  shook  his  head 
with  a  pitying  sigh,  and  rode  on. 


XV. 

TWO    PICTUEES. 

A  BIDE  of  a  few  miles  brought  Innis 
to  his  little  hunting-lodge,  perched  on  a 
knoll  in  a  gash  of  the  mountain,  and 
overshadowed  hy  haughty  pines. 

An  old  man-servant,  bowed  down 
with  age,  came  with  a  pleasant  smile  to 
greet  him,  and  take  his  horse.  Some 
kind  words,  indicative  of  affection  on 
the  part  of  each  for  the  other,  were  ex 
changed  ;  and  Innis  entered  the  little 
dwelling,  where  a  bright  fire  burned 
upon  the  hearth,  sat  down,  opened  a 
book,  and  appeared  to  be  reading.  In  a 
few  moments  the  book  sank  on  his  knee, 
his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  fire,  and  his 
thoughts  flew  far  away  from  his  little 
mountain-lodge  to  the  lowland  and  Ho- 
noria. 

He  approached  now  a  crisis  in  his  life, 
when,  perhaps,  a  few  months  would  de 
cide  his  future.  Could  he  make  some 
thing  of  himself,  or  was  he  doomed  to 
vegetate  thus  forever  in  obscurity  ?  No ! 
He  would  not  rust  away  thus,  his  fresh 
years  fading  to  the  yellow  leaf — alone, 
unknown,  a  mere  atom,  and  even  of  less 
importance  than  an  atom  in  the  universe. 

"No,"  he  said,  finally,  gazing  around 
him  at  the  small  apartment,  with  its  plain, 
almost  rude  appurtenances,  which  the 
firelight  fell  upon.  "  No,  I  cannot  live 
here  forever,  with  no  one  to  love  me,  a 
mere  nobody  in  the  world.  I  will  study, 
work,  make  something  of  myself.  I 
may  succeed  as  others  have  succeeded — 
rise  in  the  profession  of  the  law — three 
or  four  years  hence  I  may  go  to  the 
House  of  Burgesses — she  will  then  be 
scarcely  more  than  twenty — and — " 

With  this   "and"    he   stopped.      A 


blush  covered  the  youth's  cheeks,  and 
his  head  sank.  Falling  into  reverie 
again,  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  fire, 
and  remained  silent.  Was  his  imagina 
tion  painting  some  brilliant  future— the 
picture  of  himself,  prominent,  wealthy, 
honored,  and  married  to  Honoria  ? 

"In  three  or  four  years,"  he  mur 
mured—"  that  is  not  so  long— then— then 
— who  knows  ?  " 

The  old,  old  story !— the  tale  that  is 
told  of  all  the  generations  of  humanity ! 

And  at  that  very  moment,  Ilonoria, 
leaning  her  forehead  on  her  hand,  and 
looking  out  into  the  fine  October  night, 
was  thinking  of  him.  He  was  her  young 
hero — the  beloved  of  her  fresh  young 
heart.  To  Edmund  Innis  all  her  thoughts 
flowed,  and  her  meditations  were  filled 
with  bitter  pleasure — a  species  of  deli 
cious  pain. 

For  Honoria,  too,  realized  that  the 
hour  approached  when  her  relations  with 
Innis  must  undergo  a  change.  What  is 
it  that  one  day  suddenly  tells  the  maiden 
of  seventeen  that  the  youth  who  has 
hitherto  been  to  her  but  a  cousin  and 
favorite  playmate,  has  become  a  lover? 
Then  the  old  world  of  cousinship  is  dead, 
the  new  world  of  first  love  appears,  all 
flowers,  and  sunshine,  where  the  happy 
breezes  whisper  their  exquisite  secrets. 
It  was  plain  to  Honoria,  as  she  sat  sunk 
in  reverie,  with  blushing  cheeks,  that 
Edmund  was  beginning  to  love  her. 
Ilis  glance  had  revealed  all,  and  she  must 
take  care  how  she  treated  him  hence 
forth. 

She  did  not  love  him  !  Oh  !  no,  no! 
— and  the  fact  seemed  very  sorrowful, 
for  Honoria  uttered  a  piteous  sigh.  She 
loved  him,  of  course,  as  her  cousin,  dear 
ly — ves,  very  dearly — and  why  should 
she  not?  It  was  natural.  lie  was  so 
kind  and  generous  and  noble !  So  free 
from  any  thing  mean  or  little.  This  was 
the  origin  of  her  liking.  The  fact  that 
he  was  extremely  handsome,  the  most 
graceful  and  elegant  of  all  the  gentlemen 


34 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


of  her  acquaintance — tins  had  no  weight 
with  her,  not  the  least!  She  loved  him 
— yes  !  she  did  love  him — as  her  cousin 
— for  his  goodness  of  heart ;  and  she 
must  he  cold,  indeed,  not  to  do  so — but 
— that  was  all !  He  was  simply  a  favor 
ite  cousin,  and — he  was  falling  in  love 
with  her ! 

What  should  she  do  ?  Permit  him  to 
deceive  himself,  perhaps,  and  grow  un 
happy?  Oh,  no!  If  she  loved  him  as 
her  friend  and  cousin,  she  should  show  it 
now  by  refraining  from  her  former  marks 
of  affection,  and  discouraging  him  on 
the  threshold.  Yes,  that  was  her  bound- 
en  duty — she  would  resolutely  perform 
it ;  and,  having  come  to  this  resolution, 
Honoria  sighed  profoundly. 

All  at  once  a  quick  blush  rushed  to 
her  cheeks,  and  tears  overflowed  her 
eyes. 

"  Edmund  would  never  be  so  unjust," 
she  murmured. 

The  quick  thought  had  come  to  her 
that  the  young  man  might  attribute  her 
sudden  coolness  to  the  difference  in  point 
of  wealth — to  his  poverty.  His  poverty ! 
As  if  that  could  make  any  difference 
with  her!  She  loved  him  a  thousand 
times  more  for  his  poverty.  The  noblest 
men  of  history  had  been  proud  to  be 
poor ;  and  had  found  in  high  thoughts, 
the  affections  of  the  he.irt,  and  honora 
ble  toil,  the  noblest  source  of  happiness. 
Edmund  Innis  might  be  poor  in  worldly 
goods,  but  he  was  rich  in  all  else — in 
truth,  honor,  grace,  sweetness,  whatever 
best  became  a  gentleman !  His  very 
worn  and  discolored  coat  became  him 
better  than  the  silks  and  velvets  of 
others.  His  hat  might  be  frayed  and 
old,  but  when  he  bowed  before  a  lady  it 
was  like  a  prince's  coronet.  And  even 
his  poverty  was  only  a  fancy.  Why 
was  not  his  small  house  as  desirable  as 
"Blenheim  "  or  "  Rivanna?  "  Why  think 
that  splendor  and  imposing  luxury  are 
desirable  in  this  world  ?  It  was  very 
pretty,  this  little  lodge,  perched  on  its 


knoll  beneath  the  great  pines.  The 
proudest  girl  in  all  Virginia  might  be 
happy  to  live  there — with  Edmund! 

A  quick,  guilty  blush  came  to  the 
cheeks  of  the  girl.  Her  reverie  had  led 
her  to  a  point  where  suddenly  she  re 
coiled. 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  murmured  ;  "  I  did 
not  mean  that !  I  was  dreaming  day 
dreams — fancies — I  am  very  foolish.  Ed 
mund  is  nothing  to  me  ;  and  my  pride, 
perhaps,  makes  me  think  I  am  aught  to 
him.  I  hope  I  am  not — 

A  piteous  sigh  whispered  through  the 
words. 

"  I  am  mistaken,  I  suppose  ;  and  even 
if — poor  fellow !  how  could  I  bear  it — his 
distress?  But  the  young  girls  ,jn  Wil- 
liamsburg  are  very  beautiful,  they  say. 
If  he  loves  me,  I  hope  he  will  soon  find 
one  who  will  make  him  forget  me.  That 
would  make  me  very,  very  happy  !  " 

And  leaning  her  forehead  on  the  win 
dow-sill,  Honoria  uttered  a  low  sob. 

The  old,  old  story!  The  tale  that  is 
told  of  all  the  generations  of  humanity ! 


XYI. 

TWO   HEARTS. 

FEOM  his  lonely  mountain  -  lodge, 
where  no  sound  disturbed  the  silence 
but  the  low  murmur  of  the  great  pines, 
Innis  passed  to  the  stately  halls  of  "  Ri 
vanna,"  where  a  party  of  youths  and 
maidens  filled  the  days  and  nights  with 
uproar,  revelry,  and  laughter. 

He  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the 
young  ladies  and  the  gallants,  assembled 
at  the  hospitable  mansion  —  then  he 
looked  for  Honoria. 

The  young  lady  was  not  visible.  The 
result  of  that  sorrowful  reverie,  which 
we  have  partially  described,  had  been 
that  Honoria  had  resolved  not  to  encour 
age  the  youth  ;  that  is,  to  receive  him, 
if  she  received  him  at  all,  with  some 
thing  less  than  ordinary  politeness ;  and, 


TWO   HEARTS. 


35 


by  way  of  inaugurating  this  auspicious 
programme,  she  did  not -leave  her  apart 
ment,  although  rshe  saw  him  plainly  as 
he  came  up  the  hill. 

Innis  acted  with  decision — or  he  was 
fortunate.  Having  spoken  to  his  friends, 
he  went  straight  to  Lady  Brand's  cham 
ber,  and  thore  he  found  Honoria. 

As  he  entered,  the  girl's  face  flushed, 
and  her  lip  quivered.  Then  she  sup 
pressed  these  evidences  of  emotion; 
raised  her  head  with  stately  politeness, 
and  bowed  to  him  with  common  cour 
tesy — nothing  more. 

This  reception  struck  Tnnis  like  a 
blow.  He  became  crimson,  bowed  low, 
and  then  stood  in  an  attitude  almost 
haughty  before  the  girl,  not  uttering  a 
word. 

Lady  Brand  looked  at  them  in  per 
fect  bewilderment. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  you, 
Honoria;  and  with  you,  Edmund?  "  she 
exclaimed. 

"  Nothing,  mamma,"  said  Honoria, 
in  a  trembling  voice. 

"Nothing,  aunt,"  repeated  Innis. 

"  But  something  is  the  matter,"  con 
tinued  Lady  Brand.  "  I  insist  upon  an 
explanation.  These  misunderstandings 
are  perfectly  absurd;  why  do  not  people 
go  and  have  an  explanation  at  once, 
when  they  fall  out  ?— What  is  it,  Hono 
ria?" 

"  Don't  ask  me,  mamma !  "  exclaimed 
Honoria,  suppressing  with  the  utmost 
difficulty  a  burst  of  tears.  "  I  have  no 
explanation  to  make ;  no  fault  to  find 
with  anybody !  " 

And,  rising  quickly,  she  hurried  from 
the  apartment. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Edmund?" 
asked  Lady  Brand,  profoundly  mystified. 

"  I  do  not  know,  aunt,"  said  Innis, 
calmly;  "you  know  that  young  ladies 
are  subject  to  nervous  fancies — Honoria 
will  soon  recover;  I  think  I  shall  go 
down  now,  and  pay  my  respects  to  the 
company." 


He  turned  away  as  he  spoke,  de 
scended  to  the  drawing-room,  and,  retir 
ing  to  a  shaded  recess,  leaned  upon  the 
window-sill,  and  surrendered  himself  to 
bitter  meditation. 

He  was  thus  engaged  when  he  heard 
a  step  at  the  door  of  the  apartment,  and 
the  ear  of  the  lover  told  him  that  it  was 
Honoria's.  A  moment  afterward,  he 
heard  her  gay  voice  as  she  addressed  the 
gentlemen  ;  there  was  no  agitation  what 
ever  in  its  tones  :  Innis  had  to  deal  with 
a  woman  perfect  in  all  the  lessons  of  her 
sex. 

He  did  not  turn,  until,  as  the  party 
of  youths  and  young  ladies  were  going 
to  stroll  on  the  lawn,  Phil  Gary  cried 
out: 

"Wake  up  there,  old  fellow,  and 
come  and  walk !  " 

Innis  shook  his  head. 

"  That  will  never  do,  Mr.  Innis !  " 
exclaimed  an  impulsive  young  lady,  the 
"  romp  "  of  the  party  ;  "  come  this  mo 
ment  and  walk  with  me,  sir !  " 

Refusal  was  no  longer  possible.  With 
an  internal  opinion  of  the  damsel  which 
would  by  no  means  have  flattered  her 
amour-propre,  he  rose,  offered  his  arm, 
and,  a  moment  afterward,  the  "romp" 
had  seized  the  arm  of  Honoria,  dragging 
both  Innis  and  the  latter  forth  beneath 
the  great  oaks. 

Much  injustice  is  done  the  class  of 
young  ladies  called  "romps;  "  what  they 
lack  in  ceremony  they  make  up  often  in 
warmth  of  heart.  This  one  saw  that 
Innis  had  no  eyes  for  any  one  but  Hono 
ria;  she  brought  them  together;  then 
she  heard  some  one  call  her,  or  pre 
tended  to  hear,  and  quietly  retired,  smil 
ing  sweetly  upon  the  young  man,  who 
was  thus  left  with  Honoria. 

For  some  moments  it  seemed  that 
this  good  fortune  would  have  no  results. 
Innis  found  himself  walking  beside  a 
maiden  who  blushed  a  little,  but  exhibit 
ed  no  other  indication  of  emotion  ;  one 
who  was  determined  to  converse  upon 


36 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


the  subject  of  the  weather,  and  explain 
nothing. 

For  nearly  an  hour  he  tried  vainly 
to  direct  the  conversation  to  this  topic — 
the  alteration  in  the  young  lady's  de 
meanor.  She  incessantly  evaded  the 
subject;  foiled  him  at  every  turn;  and 
preserved  her  self-possession. 

Iimis  stopped,  raised  his  eyes  from 
the  ground  upon  which  they  had  been 
fixed,  and  for  a  moment  gazed  with  a 
long  and  searching  look  upon  the 
girl. 

"So  be  it,  Honoria,"  he  said,  with 
sorrowful  composure,  and  an  accent  both 
of  grief  and  pride  ;  "  my  pains,  I  see,  are 
thrown  away.  You  avoid  uttering  the 
few  simple  words  I  wish  to  hear.  You 
are  changed  to  me." 

He  could  not  suppress  a  species  of 
groan.  It  was  hard  to  feel  hope  leaving 
him. 

"  I  thought  you  had  some — affection 
— for  me,  once.  Had  you  not  ?  But  we 
will  not  speak  of  that.  Do  not  reply. 
You  had  this  affection,  and  are  altered 
to  me,  refusing  to  explain  why ;  or  you 
had  none,  and  do  not  feign.  So  be  it, 
once  more.  You  shall  not  be  annoyed 
by  my  wretched  importunity — by  this 
love — yes,  love  ! — which  wellnigh  un 
mans  me.  Oh,  it  is  hard !  very  hard 
to —  Your  gay  company  shall  not  be 
made  gloomy  by  my  miserable  face.  I 
will  go — in  an  hour  I  shall  leave  Rivanna 
— and  forever  !  " 

She  raised  her  head  with  a  startled 
•look,  and  gazed  at  him.  Her  cheeks 
were  pale,  and  her  eyes  swam  in  sudden 
tears. 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  "  she  exclaimed,  im 
pulsively,  "  you  must  not  go  !  " 

A  guilty  blush  instantly  drove  away 
the  pallor  of  her  cheeks. 

kk  That  is  to  say — I  mean — " 

There  the  low  voice  died  away,  and 
a  sob  issued  from  the  trembling  lips.  A 
moment  had  reversed  every  thing.  It 
was  Honoria  who  pleaded — Innis  who 


was  calm.     His  pride  had  come  to  his 

assistance. 

"•  You  are  cold  to  me,  or  angry  with 
me,"  he  said,  in  a  firm  voice ;  "  what 
course  therefore  remains  for  me,  but 
to—" 

"No,  no — not  cold — not  angry!" 
She  placed  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes, 
and  murmured:  "  But  it  is  best  that  we 
should  not — "  The  words  ended  in  an 
other  sob. 

"Should  not  what?"  exclaimed  the 
youth,  seizing  her  hand  ;  "  speak,  Hono 
ria  !  What  mystery  is  this  ?  You  can  trust 
me,  can  you  not  ?  You  loved  me  a  lit 
tle,  once — did  you  not — as  your  poor 
cousin,  at  least  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes !  Heaven  is  my  witness 
— faithfully — and  I  act  now  from— affec 
tion  for  you  !  " 

The  words  were  uttered  in  a  broken 
and  trembling  voice.  Honoria  leaned 
against  the  trunk  of  the  oak,  beneath 
which  they  stood  apart  from  the  gay 
groups,  and  her  whole  frame  was  con 
vulsed. 

Innis  pressed  the  hand  which  he  still 
held,  with  vehemence,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Speak,  Honoria  !  what  means  this  ? 
You  act  thus  from  affection  f  " 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"  That  prompts  you  to  treat  me  thus 
—coldly  ?  " 

"Yes!  " 

The  youth  was  silent  for  a  moment, 
lost  in  wonder;  then  his  face  grew  sud 
denly  pale,  and  an  expression  of  intense 
bitterness  came  to  his  lips.  He  dropped 
the  hand  of  the  girl. 

"I  now  understand !"  he  said,  rais 
ing  his  head  with  cold  pride. 

"  You  understand  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  said;  "yes,  there  is  no 
longer  any  mystery  to  solve,  Honoria. 
You  are  a  woman — one  of  the  best  of 
them — but,  after  all,  you  are  a  woman." 

He  looked  at  her  coldly  and  mourn 
fully. 

"  You  have  reflected  upon  the  differ- 


TWO   HEARTS. 


ence  of  our  conditions,1"  he  went  on; 
"  you  have  realized  how  broad  a  gulf 
separates  the  poor  young  man,  obscure, 
and  alone  in  the  world,  where  he  is 
nothing,  from  the  beautiful  young  heiress 
whom  all  conspire  to  flatter — " 

"Edmund!"  she  exclaimed,  wildly, 
"  oh,  you  must  not,  shall  not — " 

"  Alas ! "  he  said,  with  the  same 
proud  sorrow  in  voice  and  countenance, 
"  it  is  true — too  true !  I  can  understand 
that  good-breeding  prompts  you  to  deny 
the  charge  ;  it  is  possible,  even,  that  you 
are  unwilling  to  wound  your  poor  cousin 
— your  friend  and  playmate — who  has 
loved  you  so  long  and  faithfully !  " 

"  Edmund,  Edmund !  "  she  exclaimed, 
"this  is  ungenerous — cruel,  terrible  in 
justice  !  " 

He  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"I  would  not  be  cruel — alas!  I  can 
not.  It  is  the  woful  truth,  which  I 
have  the  courage  to  tell  you,  because  I 
am  about  to  leave  you,  and  my  heart  is 
breaking !  You  have  found  at  last,  my 
poor  darling — let  me  call  you  so,  it  is  the 
first  time  and  the  last  time — you  have 
found  that  the  present  cannot  be  like  the 
past,  because  the  world  has  its  claims 
upon  you.  You  were  Honoria  once — 
now  you  find  that  you  are  Miss  Brand  of 
Rivanna,  and  must  be  governed  by  your 
station — and,  what  right  have  I  to  blame 
you?  I  am  so  wretched,  that  I  could 
not  have  the  heart  to  inflict  upon  my 
worst  enemy  the  agony  I  feel ;  but  I 
have  no  anger  now.  I  shall  go  back  to 
my  poor  house  yonder,  and  endeavor  to 
forget  you — try  to  remember  you  only 
to  pray  Heaven  to  bless  you ;  but  now, 
before  we  part,  I  will  say  what  has  been 
my  feeling  for  months,  for  years.  I  love 
you,  Honoria!  I  love  you,  neither  as 
friend  nor  cousin,  but  with  man's  love 
for  woman!  I  love  you!— Oh!  that 
does  not  express  my  thought !  The  very 
ground  your  feet  pressed  has  been  dear 
to  me.  Your  glove,  your  handkerchief, 
the  simplest  object  you  have  touched, 


has  been  precious  to  me.  I  have  loved 
you ! — loved  you  day  and  night — waking 
and  in  dreams — in  my  joy  and  my  sor 
row — you  were  my  only  solace !  You 
took  the  place  of  father,  mother,  sister, 
and  brother  ;  I  was  a  poor,  lonely  orphan, 
but  your  love  was  enough.  You  were 
my  all — the  light  of  my  poor  life,  the 
pride  and  joy  of  a  heart  that  centred 
all  in  you !  I  lived  for  you — I  would 
have  died  for  you!  That  is  my  last 
word — farewell!  " 

He  held  out  his  hand,  but  suddenly  the 
girl  tottered  ;  her  head  fell  languidly  tow 
ard  one  shoulder  ;  and,  had  not  Innis  sup 
ported  her,  she  would  have  fallen.  Over 
come  by  the  long  and  passionate  conflict, 
the  poor  heart  taxed  beyond  its  strength, 
Honoria  had  fainted. 

Innis  looked  around  —  no  one  was 
near,  to  render  assistance.  Within 
twenty  paces,  a  little  stream,  gushing 
from  a  rock,  ran  between  grassy  banks. 
Innis  bore  the  girl  to  the  stream,  and  a 
handful  of  the  cool  water  speedily  re 
vived  her. 

As  she  opened  her  eyes,  he  withdrew 
his  arm,  but  suddenly  she  clung  to  him. 

"  Oh  no,  no !  do  not  leave  me !  "  she 
exclaimed.  "Oh,  do  not  go,  Edmund! 
I  too  —  have — loved  you  —  loved  you 
dearly!" 

And,  as  though  the  avowal  had  ex 
hausted  her  strength,  Honoria's  head 
sank  on  his  breast ;  she-  hid  lu-r  blushing 
cheeks,  and  shook  with  a  vague,  delicious 
tremor  in  her  true-love's  arms. 

When  she  looked  up  at  him,  the 
young  face  was  full  of  tears  and  blushes, 
but  a  smile  shone  there,  like  April  sun 
shine. 

The  wind  laughed  above  them,  in  the 
mighty  oak ;  the  little  stream  ran  glee 
fully  between  its  grassy  margins ;  the 
birds  sang  for  them ;  the  white  clouds 
floated— they  were  young,  they  hnvd, 
and  were  triumphant  over  fate;  for, 
whatever  the  hard  hours  bring,  two 
hearts  that  love  are  the  victors. 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


XVII. 

MOTHER   AND   DAUGHTER. 

THE  two  fond  hearts  thus  beat  to 
gether  ;  each  pressed  to  each — but,  alas ! 
it  was  more  than  probable  that  a  stern 
hand,  that  of  no  less  a  personage  than 
the  resolute  Colonel  Brand,  would  thrust 
them  asunder. 

Innis  felt  a  chill  invade  his  heart. 
What  possibility  could  there  be  of  gain 
ing  the  colonel's  consent  to  his  union  with 
Honoria?  She  was  his  favorite  daugh 
ter,  his  darling  and  pride;  she  would 
inherit  from  him  princely  possessions ; 
would  he  ever  permit  her  to  unite  her 
fortunes  to  those  of  the  poor  youth, 
when  she  might  command  the  homage 
of  the  proudest  and  wealthiest  in  the 
land  ? 

These  questions  came  to  the  youthful 
heart,  still  trembling  and  agitated  from 
the  sudden  weight  of  happiness,  and 
Innis  had  an  additional  source  of  fore 
boding.  Would  not  his  course  be  at 
tributed  to  the  basest  motives  —  nay, 
would  not  Colonel  Brand  meet  him  on 
the  very  threshold  of  Rivanna,  with  an 
insult — with  the  charge  that  he  had  dis 
honorably  taken  advantage  of  the  free 
dom  accorded  him  by  the  family,  to  win 
the  affection  of  the  young  and  beautiful 
heiress  ?  The  face  of  the  youth  blushed 
at  the  very  idea  of  such  an  accusation. 
What  would  be  the  result?  Insult- 
quarrel — bitterness  beyond  words  ;  and, 
as  he  pondered  thus,  he  looked  at  Hono 
ria. 

There  was  no  doubt  in  her  face; 
naught  but  unshrinking,  unhesitating 
love.  Where  the  youth  trembled,  she, 
the  "  weaker  vessel,"  was  firm ;  love  had 
wrought  this  mystery. 

"  My  poor  darling,"  said  Innis,  look 
ing  at  the  girl  with  inexpressible  pride 
and  tenderness,  "  I  fear  this  day  is  the 
beginning  of  much  suffering  for  you, 
but  I  love  you  so  dearly  !  " 

She  inclined  her  head  sidewise  until 


it  touched  his  shoulder.  Then  she 
looked  up  into  his  eyes,  and  said,  smil 
ing: 

"  You  ought  to  know  that  that  is 
enough  to  console  me  for  all,  Edmund !  " 

An  hour  afterward,  Honoria  had 
told  her  mother  all.  The  good  lady 
shook  her  head  sadly. 

"My  poor,  poor  child,"  she  said, 
drawing  her  daughter  to  her  heart,  "  I 
feared  this,  and  yet  had  not  resolution 
enough  to  interfere  between  this  affec 
tion  on  your  part  and  Edmund's.  He 
is  all  that  the  noblest  woman  could  wish, 
and,  were  I  able  to  control  your  fate,  I 
should  not  hesitate  ;  but  I  am  powerless. 
You  know  your  father's  pride,  and,  I 
must  add,  worldliness.  He  has  re 
solved,  I  fear,  that  you  shall  make  a 
grand  match  ;  and  Edmund  is  so  poor — 
this  terrible  poverty !  " 

"It  is  nothing,  mamma!"  said  Ho 
noria,  with  a  blush  and  a  smile.  Her 
mother  smiled  in  reply,  but  it  was  rather 
a  sad  smile. 

"It  is  every  thing  with  Colonel 
Brand — or  much,  at  least — but  let  us 
hope  for  the  best.  You  say  that  Ed 
mund  would  not  permit  you  to  bind 
yourself.  That  is  like  him,  and  time 
may  change  all.  He  may  make  his  mark 
in  the  colony,  and  that  may  reconcile 
your  father  to  the  arrangement.  1  think, 
now,  that  Edmund  had  better  absent 
himself  for  a  short  time." 

"Yes,  indeed,  mamma;  I  have  al 
ready  given  him  his  orders,"  replied 
Honoria,  laughing. 

Do  not  laugh  at  her  laughter,  reader. 
She  was  a  mere  child,  and  so  happy. 

Innis  left  Rivanna  on  the  same  even 
ing,  and  the  place  seemed  dark  to  Hono 
ria.  For  the  first  time,  she  felt  how 
dearly,  how  absorbingly  she  loved  him. 

Such  had  been  the  events  of  a  single 
day  in  the  life  of  Honoria  Brand.  She 
was  happy  beyond  words;  her  young 
life  was  flooded  all  at  once  with  sun 
shine  ;  and  the  future  seemed  to  contain 


HOW  THEY  DREW  LOTS  WHICH  SHOULD  EAT  THE  DUMB-CAKE. 


39 


no  cloud  which  could  overshadow  her 
existence. 


XVIII. 

HOW      T1IEY     DEEW     LOTS     WHICH     SHOULD 
EAT    THE    DUMB-CAKE. 

THE  Virginians  have  been  noted  al 
ways  for  their  devotion  to  the  pleasures 
of  social  intercourse — their  love  of  com 
pany,  festivities,  of  whatever  lifts  from  the 
heart  the  inexorable  weight  of  care,  or 
dissipates  the  wearying  preoccupation 
of  affairs.  To  enjoy  while  life  lasts,  and 
catch  the  perfume  of  the  blossom — such 
is  the  philosophy  of  this  race  of  English 
people  living  under  brighter  skies  and 
warmer  sunshine  than  the  skies  and  sun 
shine  of  that  "nest  of  swans,"  as  Shake 
speare  calls  Old  England.  To  laugh,  to 
dance,  to  drive  dull  care  away — such  has 
always  been  the  habit  of  the  country 
society  of  Virginia;  and  at  Rivanna,  in 
the  old  times  of  which  I  write,  the  days 
and  nights  were  one  round  of  gayety. 
The  flying  hours  were  sent  upon  their 
way  with  joyous  laughter — with  music, 
games,  rides  to  the  mountain,  and  that 
most  popular  of  all  divertisements,  love- 
making. 

All  day  the  merry  revel  went  on,  and 
when  night  came  the  great  mansion  blazed 
with  lights — the  negro  violinists  tuned 
their  instruments,  the  halls  resounded, 
and  the  little  beauties  and  their  cavaliers 
bowed  low  in  the  stately  minuet,  or  flew 
through  the  mazes  of  the  Virginia  reel, 
until  the  hands  of  the  great  shadowy- 
looking  clock  behind  the  hall-door  pointed 
to  midnight. 

The  evening  came  at  last  preceding 
the  day  upon  which  it  was'  determined 
that  the  party  should  break  up.  The 
company  seemed  to  have  grown  weary 
of  dancing,  of  games,  of  jest  and  laughter. 
As  a  new  entertainment,  they  had  re 
course  to  "  ghost-stories ;  "  and,  the  lights 
having  been  put  out,  they  grouped  them 
selves  upon  chairs,  settees,  cushions,  and 


the  floor,  listening  in  awe-struck  silence 
to  the  low  whisper  of  the  story-teller  of 
the  moment. 

The  spectacle  was  striking.  Through 
the  tall  windows  the  pallid  moonlight 
streamed  into  the  large  apartment,  pro 
jecting  fantastic  shadows  on  the  carpet ; 
the  silken  dresses  of  the  young  girls 
shimmered  in  the  weird  light,  and  the 
darker  costumes  of  their  male  companions 
assumed  a  lugubrious  and  funereal  ap 
pearance,  the  figures  but  half  denned  in 
the  gloom. 

At  last  the  ghost-story,  related  in  a 
low,  awe-struck  whisper,  was  over,  and 
the  group  drew  a  long  breath.  A  second 
and  a  third  narration  followed — the 
mournful  splendor  of  the  moonlight 
seemed  to  deepen — the  shadow  of  the 
great  oak  without,  through  whose  leaves 
a  wind  swept,  waved  upon  the  floor, 
making  all  turn  their  heads  quickly — and 
when  suddenly  the  great  clock  struck, 
with  its  clangorous,  metallic  sound,  in 
the  darkness,  something  like  a  shiver 
ran  through  every  frame. 

The  last  story  ended,  and  a  deep 
silence  followed.  It  was  broken  by  Lou 
Brand,  who,  essaying  to  laugh,  but  failing 
lamentably,  said: 

"  Well,  girls,  there  is  but  one  thing 
more  for  us  to  do,  and  that  is,  to  eat 
the  dumb-cake  to-night." 

"Yes,  yes!  "  came  from  the  rest. 

"  Who  will  venture  ?  "  continued  the 
young  lady.  "It  is  said  to  be  a  fearful 
ordeal,  and  mamma  tells  of  a  young  lady, 
a  friend  of  hers  once,  who  saw  a  sight 
so  dreadful  that  she  went  distracted." 

Exclamations  of  terror  and  curiosity 
greeted  these  words. 

"What  was  it?" 

The  young  lady  shook  her  head. 

"You  may  laugh  at  me,"  she  replied, 
"  for  saying  so,  but  these  ghost-stories 
have  made  me  nervous.  I  tried  to  make 
a  jest  just  now,  and  failed.  I  cannot  tell 
you  mamma's  story — I  could  not  sleep 
j  after  it.  And  I  think,  upon  the  whole, 


40 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


that  it  would  be  as  well  not  to  eat 
the  dumb-cake  to-night." 

But  this  proposition  was  received 
'  with  murmurs. 

"  No  harm  can  result  from  it,"  said 
one. 

"  I  will  venture,"  said  another. 

"  And  I." 

"  And  I,"  said  a  third  and  fourth. 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  lady,  "  if  you 
are  resolved,  I  will  not  dissuade  you.  But, 
as  there  are  so  many  candidates,  you  must 
draw  lots." 

This  was  readily  agreed  to,  and,  pro 
curing  a  wheat-straw,  the  young  lady 
divided  it  into  a  number  of  pieces  of 
equal  length,  with  the  exception  of  one, 
which  was  very  short,  and  grasped  them 
in  her  hand,  the  protruding  ends  exactly 
coinciding. 

"  Form  a  circle  on  the  floor,  now," 
she  said,  "  and  I  will  stand  in  the  centre, 
and  each  can  draw." 

About  half  a  dozen  of  the  young  girls 
promptly  obeyed,  and  the  protestations 
of  her  companions  induced  Honoria,  very 
much  against  her  will,  to  become  one  of 
the  group. 

"  Each  draw  one  straw,  now,"  said 
Lou  Brand ;  "  the  girl  who  draws  the 
shortest  will  be  the  one." 

The  ceremony  was  performed  in  sol 
emn  silence.  Each  in  turn  drew. 

"  Now  hold  up  your  hands." 

This  was  done. 

"  You  have  drawn  the  short  straw, 
Honoria,"  said  Lou  Brand  to  her  sister, 
"  and  you  must  go  through  the  ordeal." 

41  Oh,  I  cannot !  "  exclaimed  Honoria. 

But  this  was  protested  against  by  all ; 
and  Honoria  found  herself  doomed  to  eat 
the  dumb-cake. 


XIX. 

TERROR. 

THE  singular  rite   styled  eating  the 
dumb-cake  was  one  of  those  superstitious 


ceremonies  which,  whether  derived  from 
half  -  civilized  and  credulous  African 
nurses,  or  having  their  origin  far  back 
beyond  memory,  had  taken  fast  hold  up 
on  the  imaginations  of  the  young  at  this 
period. 

The  origin  of  the  name  is  difficult  to 
determine,  especially  as  no  cake  of  any 
description  was  eaten.  Was  the  name 
metaphorical,  and  did  it  signify  that  those 
who  performed  the  ceremony  saw  sights 
which  sealed  their  lips,  rendering  them 
dumb  as  to  the  mystery  ? 

It  is  certain,  at  least,  that  there  was 
something  sombre  and  mysterious  about 
the  rite  —  a  knowledge  of  which  was 
carefully  concealed  from  all  but  the  fe 
male  sex ;  and  the  preparations  for  it 
were  weird  and  fantastic. 

First,  the  maiden  selected  to  perform 
the  ceremony  was  to  leave  all  her  com 
panions  and  await  the  hour  of  eleven  at 
night.  Then  she  was  to  take  a  bucket, 
proceed  silently  and  alone  to  the  mystic 
spot  where  three  streams  met,  fill  the 
bucket,  and  then  gain  with  it  the  cham 
ber  selected  for  the  mysterious  ceremony. 
All  was  to  be  performed  without  assist 
ance.  No  other  human  being  must  be 
near.  Having  reached  her  chamber,  she 
was  to  deposit  the  bucket  on  the  floor, 
doff  her  garments,  and,  when  ready  to 
retire,  dip  the  sleeve  of  the  garment 
which  she  had  worn  nearest  her  person 
in  the  water,  and  place  it  upon  a  chair. 

These  ceremonies,  it  was  supposed, 
would  consume  nearly  an  hour,  and  mid 
night  would  be  near  when  they  were 
finished.  The  neophyte  was  then  to 
stand  perfectly  motionless  and  silent, 
awaiting  the  stroke  of  midnight.  The 
strokes  were  to  be  counted  in  silence 
from  "  one  "  to  "  twelve."  At  the  stroke 
of  twelve  the  maiden  was  to  look  over 
her  shoulder  into  a  mirror  placed  for  the 
purpose — and  the  result  would  be,  that 
she  would  see  her  future  husband  ! 

It  will  now  be  understood  why  Ho 
noria  was  reluctant  to  join  the  group. 


TERROR. 


and  had  exclaimed,  "Oh,  I  cannot!" 
when  the  lot  fell  to  her ;  and  why,  in  both 
cases,  she  permitted  herself  to  be  over 
ruled.  She  wished  and  she  did  not  wish 
to  see  her  "  future  husband  " — for  these 
two  words  conjured  up  the  form  of  Ed 
mund  Innis.  Superstitious,  like  all  at 
that  epoch,  she  had  a  lurking  belief  in 
the  mysterious  ceremony,  and  shrunk 
from  attempting  thus  to  read  that  fu 
ture  which  must  bring  her  joy  or  misery 
in  connection  with  Innis. 

She  had  yielded,  however,  ashamed 
of  herself,  it  may  be,  or  saying,  "  It  is 
nothing."  "When  the  whole  party  soon 
afterward  retired  to  their  respective 
apartments,  Honoria  went  to  her  own, 
where  on  this  night  no  companion  was 
to  share  her  couch,  and  resolutely  pre 
pared  for  the  mysterious  ordeal. 

An  unexpected  obstacle  suddenly 
presented  itself.  The  night,  which  had 
been  hitherto  fair,  had  gradually  become 
over-clouded ;  in  the  distance  was  heard 
the  low  muttering  of  thunder ;  and  from 
moment  to  moment  sullen  flashes  of  far 
lightning  divided  the  night. 

u  If  I  go,  I  must  go  now,  and  I  have 
promised,"  murmured  the  girl. 

It  was  not  far  that  she  must  go  to 
procure  the  mystic  water.  In  a  dell, 
overshadowed  by  great  trees,  a  few  hun 
dred  yards  from  the  house,  three  small 
rivulets,  tributaries  of  the  Rivanna,  min 
gled  their  waters  within  a  few  feet  of 
each  other ;  and  toward  this  spot,  hold 
ing  in  her  hand  the  bucket,  Honoria  now 
hastened. 

The  night  had  become  darker  and 
darker,  the  heavens  more  and  more  ob 
scured  by  the  huge  masses  of  inky 
clouds,  which  were  divided  at  every  in 
stant  by  vivid  lightnings.  These  daz 
zling  serpents,  appearing  and  vanishing 
as  suddenly,  were  followed  by  the  hoarse 
roar  of  thunder;  and,  terrified  by  this 
uproar  of  the  elements,  Honoria  hastened 
on  as  rapidly  as  possible,  to  reach  the 
desired  point.  As  she  did  so,  terror 


gradually  took  possession  of  her.  Her 
pulse  beat  feverishly,  and  her  quick 
breathing  indicated  that  she  was  nearly 
overcome  by  fright. 

But  her  word  was  given,  and  her 
character  for  resolution  at  stake.  She 
must  go  on,  and  she  did  so — pale,  terri 
fied,  stumbling  as  she  ran.  The  shadowy 
boughs  above  her  seemed  to  reach  down 
spectral  hands  to  grasp  her  and  bear  her 
away.  The  bushes  took  the  shape  of 
something  weird  and  fearful  lying  in 
wait  for  her.  "When,  suddenly,  an  owl 
uttered  his  ghostly  laughter  near,  she 
shrunk,  and  nearly  fainted  from  terror. 

How  she  had  strength  to  proceed  she 
could  never  explain,  but  she  resolutely 
went  on,  reached  the  spot,  filled  the 
bucket,  and  hurried  back  toward  the 
hall,  panting,  tottering,  dizzy,  and  stum 
bling  as  she  ran  from  the  fiery  lightning, 
whose  red  finger  seemed  to  be  feeling  for 
her  in  the  darkness. 

Her  will  supported  her,  nevertheless, 
and  at  last  her  foot  struck  the  sill  of  the 
side-door  by  which  she  intended  to  gain 
her  chamber.  Here  her  strength  gave 
way,  and  she  sank  down,  nearly  over 
come  by  nervous  agitation. 

A  few  moments,  however,  sufficed  for 
the  recovery  of  her  strength,  and,  raising 
the  bucket  once  more,  she  mounted  pain 
fully  with  the  heavy  weight  to  her  cham 
ber. 

There  all  was  still,  and  nothing  was 
heard  but  the  low  sound  of  the  fire, 
which,  in  anticipation  of  the  coolness 
of  the  autumn  night,  had  been  kindled 
some  hours  before  in  the  great  fireplace. 
The  wood  had  been  nearly  all  consumed 
— a  few  brands  only  were  left,  which 
had  fallen  from  the  andirons,  and  around 
these  the  flames,  about  to  expire,  were 
licking  with  their  snake-like  tongues. 

Without,  the  storm  raged  with  vio 
lence,  and  the  ghastly  glare  of  the  moon, 
seen  from  time  to  time,  as  the  ebon 
clouds  drifted  away  before  the  wind, 
only  made  the  night  more  lugubrious. 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"Oh,  I  cannot,  I  cannot!  "  exclaimed 
the  girl,  looking  around  her  with  a  shud 
der.  "  I  am  not  well,  I  am  nervous — 
sick—" 

She  went  toward  the  fire,  as  though 
that  were  something  cheerful  and  friend 
ly  ;  and,  seating  herself  in  a  great  arm 
chair,  endeavored  to  regain  her  calm 
ness. 


XX. 

THE    DTJMB-OAKE. 

Ix  spite  of  every  effort  made  by  Ho- 
noria,  she  found  it  impossible  to  recover 
her  calmness.  It  is  probable  that  the 
prolonged  loss  of  rest,  incident  upon  the 
festivities  of  the  many  preceding  nights, 
had  predisposed  her  to  nervous  agitation  ; 
but,  whatever  may  have  been  the  cause, 
she  \vas  now  laboring  under  very  great 
excitement,  and  shrunk,  trembling,  at 
every  sound. 

The  strange  rite  she  was  about  to 
perform  came  to  add  the  finishing  touch 
to  her  agitation. 

There  was  the  bucket,  filled  with 
the  mysterious  water  from  the  weird 
locality  where  the  three  streams  met; 
she  looked  sidewise  at  it,  with  a  sudden 
quaking,  as  though  it  were  some  fright 
ful  and  repellent  monster,  some  hideous 
thing.  This  was  to  aid  her  in — in  what? 
In  seeing  the  figure  of  her  future  hus 
band  ! 

At  that  thought,  a  quick  blush  came 
to  the  beautiful  young  face,  driving  away 
for  an  instant  the  expression  of  terror. 
It  was  the  name  Edmund  that  rose  to 
her  lips,  and  brought  the  crimson  to  her 
cheeks.  Could  any  other  person  than 
Edmund  ever  sustain  toward  her  that 
most  sacred  relation?  Was  it  within  the 
bounds  of  possibility  that  any  one  but 
Edmund  could  be  her  husband?  At 
the  very  thought,  the  pale  cheeks  flushed, 
and  she  exclaimed  in  a  low  tone,  "  I 
would  rather  die !  " 

Her  own  voice  made  her  start,  and 


she  looked  round  fearfully.  Every  ob 
ject  seemed  to  have  assumed  a  new 
character,  becoming  threatening  or  lugu 
brious.  The  shadows  of  the  curtains 
on  the  wall  resembled  dark  hands 
raised  to  strike  her ;  the  great  oak  with 
out  was  a  spectre  peering  in  through  her 
casement;  the  half-hideous,  half-gro 
tesque  heads  on  the  tops  of  the  tall  and 
irons  seemed  grinning  at  her  terror  and 
mocking  her. 

The  nervous  agitation  of  the  young 
lady  had  now  attained  almost  its  high 
est  point.  The  storm  roared  with  a  fury 
more  appalling  than  before.  The  shad 
ows  assumed  more  threatening  shapes. 
At  every  sound,  Honoria  started,  shud 
dering  and  gazing  around  her  with  af 
frighted  eyes.  This  excitement  grew  at 
last  so  powerful  that  she  scarcely  dared 
to  move.  With  a  trembling  frame  and 
colorless  cheeks  she  listened  in  an  agony 
of  terror,  and  once  she  wellnigh  uttered 
a  stream,  for  a  low,  painful  breathing 
seemed  to  issue  from  the  great  white 
bed,  which,  with  spectral  curtains  drawn 
together  like  a  shroud,  alternately  ap 
peared  and  vanished  as  the  dying  fire 
light  leaped  aloft  or  disappeared. 

The  low  breathing  had  scarcely 
ceased,  when  another  source  of  agitation 
presented  itself.  Above  the  fireplace 
hung  that  portrait  of  the  elder  Lord 
Ruthven,  Colonel  Brand's  friend,  and 
the  picture  had  changed  its  quarter  from 
the  colonel's  dressing-room  by  a  singular 
chance,  which  will  be  explained  in  the 
progress  of  the  narrative.  As  llonoria 
gazed  now  at  the  dark,  melancholy  face, 
it  seemed  alive.  The  shadowy  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  her  with  terrifying  in 
tensity.  She  looked  away,  but  they 
seemed  to  draw  her,  and  there  again  was 
the  dark,  lugubrious  gaze,  full  of  myste 
rious  meaning.  Then  the  brows  seemed 
to  contract  with  a  frown — the  lips  to 
assume  an  ominous  and  threatening  ex 
pression — the  portrait  to  move,  and  the 
figure  to  be  about  to  step  from  the  can- 


AT   THREE  IX   THE  MORNING. 


43 


vas  and  extend  its  shadowy  hand  tow 
ard  her. 

Honoria  rose  to  her  feet,  trembling 
and  shuddering.  Her  terror  had  reached 
its  climax.  She  felt  that  it  was  neces 
sary  to  dissipate  the  fearful  atmosphere 
around  her,  or  she  would  fall  fainting 
upon  the  floor.  The  thought  of  call 
ing  fbr  assistance  occurred  to  her,  but 
the  storm  was  too  violent  to  admit  of 
her  being  heard.  Then  she  would  be 
come  the  laughing-stock  of  all — was  she 
not  overcome  simply  by  foolish  ner 
vousness?  No,  she  would  not  shrink. 

"I  am  no  longer  a  child,"  she  mur 
mured  ;  "  I  must  prove  myself  a  woman, 
for  his  sake  if  not  for  my  own!  " 

She  knelt  and  prayed,  trembling,  but 
firm  in  will. 

Then  partly  disrobing  herself,  the 
young  lady  dipped  the  sleeve  of  the 
snowy  garment,  worn  next  her  person, 
in  the  bucket,  placed  it  with  a  tremulous 
hand  upon  a  chair,  and  went  toward  the 
mirror. 

At  the  same  moment  the  great  clock 
in  the  hall  below  began  to  strike  mid 
night. 

Pale,  trembling,  with  bare  feet,  hair 
falling  upon  her  shoulders,  and  resem 
bling  rather  a  ghost  than  a  human  being, 
the  young  lady  counted  the  strokes  one 
after  another,  shuddering  more  and 
more  as  the  number  increased,  and  ap 
proached  the  terrible  "  twelve,"  denot 
ing  midnight. 

Had  she  not  been  so  completely  mas 
tered  by  terror,  she  might  have  seen 
two  burning  eyes  watching  her  from  be 
hind  the  shroud -like  curtains  of  the 
great  bed. 

But  she  saw  nothing ;  her  eyes  were 
half  closed,  and  fixed  upon  the  floor ; 
one  hand  was  placed  upon  her  heart,  to 
still  its  terrible  throbbing. 

Suddenly  the  clock  struck  twelve :  a 
fearful  shudder  convulsed  the  frame  of 
Honoria;  and,  turning  quickly,  she 
looked  into  the  mirror. 


XXL 

AT   THEEE   IN   THE    MORNING. 

THE  occurrences  of  this  terrible  night 
afterward  became  the  topic  of  conver 
sation  far  and  wide  in  the  region  around 
Rivanna;  and  the  point  of  most  interest 
seemed  to  be  the  exact  hour  of  the  night 
at  which  the  singular  event — if  there 
were  such — took  place. 

It  was  remembered  that  the  party  in 
the  drawing-room  separated  at  about 
eleven — the  object  having  been  to  afford 
Honoria  time  to  make  her  preparations, 
procure  the  water  from  the  stream,  and 
be  in  readiness  at  midnight  for  the  ordeal 
of  the  dumb-cake.  That  she  did  make 
every  preparation,  and,  in  spite  of  the 
storm,  reach  the  point  where  the  three 
streams  met,  and  return  with  the  bucket 
of  water,  was  soon  ascertained — the 
bucket  was  there,  and  one  of  the  maids 
had  seen  her  pass  through  the  grounds. 
She  had  regained  the  house,  it  was  as 
certained,  some  time  before  midnight ; 
and  certainly  had  time  to  arrange  her 
night  toilet,  to  perform  the  ceremony  of 
dipping  the  sleeve  of  her  garment  in  the 
water,  and  was  ready  to  look  into  the 
mirror  at  the  moment  when  the  great 
clock  in  the  hall  below  struck  twelve. 

And  yet  the  horrible  incidents  of  the 
night  must  have  taken  place  a  con 
siderable  time  after  midnight — perhaps 
as  late  as  one  in  the  morning.  There 
was  no  means,  it  is  true,  of  accurately 
ascertaining  this  fact — that  is  to  say,  of 
fixing  the  precise  hour;  but  the  young 
ladies  of  the  party  were  confident  that 
they  had  listened  for  sounds  from  Hono- 
ria's  room  at  midnight;  were  equally 
certain  that  they  had  heard  nothing  ;  and 
they  had  asserted  that  it  was  a  consider 
able  time  after  midnight,  and  just  as 
they  were  retiring,  when  the  piercing 
shriek  which  startled  them  was  heard 
issuing  from  Honoria's  apartment ! 

The  shriek  was  followed  by  a  heavy 
fall.  The  whole  party  of  young  ladies, 


44 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


clad  in  their  white  night-dresses,  ran,  in 
undisguised  alarm,  to  the  chamber,  and 
there  a  piteous  sight  met  their  eyes.  Ho- 
noria  was  stretched  upon  the  floor  in 
sensible,  and,  when  they  raised  her,  her 
companions  gave  a  quick  shudder;  she 
hung  upon  their  arms  so  inert  and  life 
less,  that  they  thought  her  dead.  Re 
storatives  were  quickly  applied,  and 
water  dashed  in  the  young  girl's  face,  to 
arouse  her ;  but,  for  a  long  time,  these 
remedies  had  no  effect.  Meanwhile, 
Lady  Brand  had  been  sent  for,  and  hur 
ried  to  the  chamber.  As  she  ran  to  her 
child,  calling  to  her  in  agonized  tones,  a 
faint  color  came  to  Honoria's  cheeks  ;  she 
opened  her  eyes,  gazed  vacantly  around 
her,  and  then,  clutching  rather  than  sim 
ply  embracing  her  mother,  cried  in  a 
trembling  and  broken  voice: 

"  O  mother ! — protect  me !  do  not 
leave  me !  protect  me  from  that  horror 
— on  my  shoulder !  " 

As  she  spoke,  she  closed  her  eyes, 
and  with  a  frightful  shudder  clung  to  her 
mother,  as  though  for  protection. 

She  was  borne  to  bed  immediately, 
and  Lady  Brand  requested  the  young 
ladies  to  retire,  and  leave  her  to  tend  her 
daughter.  This  they  did  with  reluc 
tance;  but  the  apartment  was  soon  va 
cated  by  all  but  Honoria,  Lady  Brand, 
and  her  eldest  daughter. 

"  Honoria  has  had  some  terrible 
shock — Heaven  knows  what !  "  said  Lady 
Brand,  supporting  the  trembling  form 
of  the  half-inanimate  girl  in  her  arms  on 
the  bed.  "What  it  was  can  be  ascer 
tained  afterward;  what  is  necessary  no\v 
is  a  physician." 

"Oh,   yes,  yes,  mamma!"    exclaimed 
her  daughter,  pale,  and  in  tears. 

" Do  not  disturb  Colonel  Brand;  he 
will  be  of  no  service.  Send  Cato — he  is 
trusty — on  the  best  horse  in  the  stables, 
for  Dr.  Bond." 

The  young  lady  hurried  to  arouse 
Cato,  who  was  soon  in  the  saddle. 

An  hour    afterward,   Dr.   Bond   ar 


rived — an  elderly,  solemn-looking  gen 
tleman,  who  "hummed"  between  his 
phrases,  looked  profound,  and  rounded 
his  periods  with  sonorous  scientific 
terms.  He  prescribed  some  trifle  for 
Honoria,  assuring  Lady  Brand  that  the 
young  girl  was  "simply  laboring  under 
a  slight  nervous  disorder,  partaking  of 
the  character  of,  but  not  to  be  accurate 
ly  designated,  at  least  at  the  present 
moment,  as  hysteria;  something  had 
doubtless  disagreed  with  her,  and  subse 
quent  agitation  on  some  subject,  or,  in 
fact,  on  no  subject,  would  amply  account 
for  a  slight  attack  which  need  occasion 
no  alarm — no  alarm  whatever,  I  assure 
you,  my  dear  madam." 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day, 
Honoria,  who  had  passed  the  forenoon  in 
a  condition  of  half-consciousness  only, 
began  to  grow  animated,  and  had  a  mag 
nificent  color. 

"Look,  doctor,"  said  Lady  Brand 
to  Dr.  Bond.  "I  think  my  daughter's 
appearance  indicates  an  access  of  fe 
ver." 

"  Hum !  "  said  Dr.  Bond,  clearing  his 
throat  with  extreme  dignity,  "  it  may  be 
that  there  is  a  slight — hum — inclination 
to — as  you  say,  madam — fever." 

And,  with  a  profound  air,  the  doctor 
felt  the  young  girl's  pulse. 

"I  know  it  is  fever,"  said  Lady  Brand, 
brusquely,  and  turning  to  Colonel  Brand, 
who  was  seated,  still  and  solemn,  in  the 
chamber,  she  exchanged  a  few  words 
with  him  in  a  low  tone,  after  which  she 
left  the  apartment. 

Descending  the  staircase  rapidly, 
Lady  Brand  was  just  passing  through 
the  hall,  when  suddenly  she  found  her 
self  face  to  face  with  a  pale  young  man, 
whose  white  lips  said  : 

"What  is  the  matter  with  Ilonoria, 
aunt  ?  " 

Lady  Brand  seized  his  hand,  and  ex 
claimed  : 

u  I  will  tell  you,  when  you  return, 
Edmund.  I  intended  to  send  Cato,  but 


AT   THREE   IN   THE   MORNING. 


45 


you  will  not  return  without  him,  if  you 
have  to  drag  him." 

"  Drag  him  !  drag  whom  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Vandyke." 

Innis  gazed  with  startled  eyes  at 
Lady  Brand. 

"  Yes,  Dr.  Vandyke !  "  she  repeated ; 
"he  must  come  at  once,  and  see  my 
child ;  this  stupid  Dr.  Bond  will  let  her 
die—" 

"  Die  !— good  Heavens !  of  what  ? " 

"  Of  brain-fever." 

As  she  was  speaking,  Lady  Brand 
had  hastened  toward  a  desk  in  a  corner 
of  the  hall,  which  contained  pen,  ink, 
and  paper.  Taking  a  sheet,  she  wrote 
upon  it : 

"You  said  once  that  if  I  ever  needed 
you,  you  would  come,  travelling  night 
and  day,  if  necessary.  I  need  you  now." 

Signing  and  directing  this  note,  she 
gave  it  to  Innis. 

"  Bring  the  doctor  back  with  you, 
my  son,  and  as  soon  as  possible,"  she 
said  ;  "  I  have  an  instinct  in  diseases,  and 
this  of  Honoria's  is  going  to  be  critical." 

Innis  scarcely  waited  to  hear  the 
sentence  finished.  'His  thorough-bred, 
fresh  and  in  fine  condition,  stood  at  the 
door ;  he  was  in  the  saddle  in  a  minute, 
and  disappeared  at  full  gallop  in  the 
direction  of  Williamsburg. 

It  seemed  to  Lady  Brand  a  century 
since  the  departure  of  Innis,  and  she 
counted  the  hours,  day  and  night,  with 
feverish  impatience  —  holding  the  hot 
face  of  Honoria  in  her  bosom — giving 
her  cooling  draughts — striving  to  combat 
the  disease  until  the  arrival  of  the  per 
son  for  whom  she  had  sent. 

Dr.  Bond  had  taken  up  his  residence 
at  the  hall,  and  still  rounded  his  periods 
with  serene  dignity,  drank  the  colonel's 
wine,  and  declared  the  case  of  Miss 
Brand  one  which  would  readily  yield 
to  treatment,  unless  another  and  more 
threatening  phase  was  superinduced  up 
on  the  present,  which  his  diagnosis  told 
him  was — 


The  voice  droned  on,  and  Lady 
Brand  did  not  even  seem  to  hear  it.  It 
was  three  in  the  morning,  and  she  held 
the  hot  hand  of  the  girl,  listening. 

All  at  once  she  turned  her  head 
quickly. 

"  He  has  come  !  "  she  said. 

"  To  whom,  madam,  may  I  ask,  do 
you — hum — refer?"  said  Dr.  Bond. 

Lady  Brand  was  already  at  the  door, 
a  lamp  in  her  hand;  steps  traversed  the 
hall,  and  then  mounted. 

"Well,"  said  a  vibrating  and  metallic 
voice,  "  how  is  she  ?  " 

And  Dr.  Vandyke  came  and  grasped 
the  hand  of  Lady  Brand;  his  long,  gray 
hair  streaming  around  his  face,  in  which 
burned  two  piercing  eyes ;  his  long  over 
coat  covered  with  dust ;  his  pipe-stem 
legs,  lost  in  huge  riding-boots,  clattering 
as  he  walked. 

"How  is  Honoria?" 

"She  is  ill." 

"Worse?" 

"Yes." 

This  dialogue  terminated  with  a  nod 
from  Dr.  Vandyke,  who  went  into  the 
chamber,  and  up  to  the  bed. 

Dr.  Bond  was  standing  there  in  an 
attitude  of  much  dignity.  An  expres 
sion  of  some  surprise,  and  even  hauteur, 
mingled  with  the  dignity. 

"  Hum,"  he  said,  "I  have  the  honor 
of  seeing  Dr. — " 

"  Vandyke,  at  your  service.  How  is 
Miss  Brand  ? " 

This  question  was  delivered  with 
business-like  brevity,  and  the  tone  of  it 
contrasted  strongly  with  that  of  Dr. 
Bond. 

The  latter  cleared  his  throat,  and 
commenced  an  imposing  sentence;  but 
Dr.  Vandyke,  measuring  his  professional 
brother  at  one  glance,  proceeded  uncere 
moniously  to  form  his  own  opinion  of 
the  sufferer's  condition. 

Lady  Brand  was  at  his  side.  After 
some  moments1  silence : 

"Well,  doctor?  "  she  said,  anxiously. 


46 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


Dr.  Vandyke  said,  briefly : 

"  Well,  madam  ?  " 

That  was  all ;  he  did  not  look  at  the 
lady. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Honoria? " 

"  She  has  brain-fever." 

"  The  attack  is  dangerous  ?  " 

"  Hum — will  you  permit  me,  madam 
— if  I  might  venture  to  express  an 
opinion,"  said  Dr.  Bond,  with  some  hau 
teur,  "  Miss  Brand  has  already  improved 
under  my  treatment,  and  I  do  not  re 
gard  her  case  as  critical  in  its  character." 

Lady  Brand  bowed  hurriedly,  but 
looked  at  Dr.  Vandyke.  This  look  was 
unmistakable. 

"  You  desire  my  opinion  of  Miss 
Brand's  condition,  madam  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  doctor." 

He  looked  at  her  with,  a  singular, 
wistful  glance,  and  muttered  : 

"You  were  always  strong;  superior 
in  brain  and  nerve  to  any  woman  I  ever 
knew — " 

"  Doctor !  " 

Lady  Brand  had  begun  to  tremble 
from  head  to  foot. 

"Speak,  and  speak  plainly!"  she 
said. 

"  Tt  is  best.  There  is  no  more  for  me 
to  learn  of  this  case.  The  crisis  will 
take  place  in  three  days.  Honoria  will 
then  be  convalescent,  or — do  you  think 
you  can  stand  the  truth  ?  " 

"Yes— yes!    Speak." 

"  She  will  be  dead  !  " 

A  low  groan  from  the  door-way  came 
like  an  echo  to  the  words. 

Dr.  Vandyke  looked  round  —  his 
steady  gaze  passing  from  the  white  face 
of  Lady  Brand  to  the  face  of  him  who 
had  uttered  the  groan. 

It  was  Innis  who,  leaning  upon  the 
frame  of  the  door,  and  gazing  with  eyes 
wet  with  tears  upon  the  sick  girl,  had 
summed  up  as  it  were  in  this  expres 
sion  of  anguish  the  despair  under  which 
it  seemed  to  him  his  heart  would 
break. 


XXII. 

THE    CRISIS. 

THREE  days  nearly,  hour  for  hour, 
passed.  During  this  time,  Dr.  Vandyke 
scarcely  left  for  an  instant  the  bedside 
of  Honoria,  scafcely  tasted  food,  and 
concentrated  every  faculty  of  his  pow 
erful  brain  upon  the  wellnigh  hopeless 
task  of  snatching  the  sick  girl  from  the 
hand  of  Death  stretched  forth  to  clutch 
her.  There  was  something  sublime  in 
this  gigantic  struggle  of  the  eccentric 
dwarf,  in  his  outre  costume,  with  the  su 
preme  enemy  of  humanity.  The  conflict 
was  breast  to  breast;  science  and  the 
spirit  of  death  wrestled  over  the  wasted 
body ;  and  at  last  the  decisive  moment 
came. 

It  was  an  hour  or  two  past  midnight. 
The  three  days  fixed  by  Dr.  Vandyke,  as 
the  term  of  the  struggle  when  the  crisis 
would  arrive,  were  about  to  expire. 

Honoria,  wasted  away  to  a  phantom 
nearly,  lay,  or  rather  tossed  to  and  fro, 
burnt  up  by  the  fearful  fever  which  was 
preying  upon  all  the  sources  of  her  life. 

In  the  group  near  the  fireplace  stood 
Colonel  Brand,  still,  and  overawed  by  the 
terrible  spectacle  ;  Lady  Brand,  pale,  but 
with  red  rings  around  her  eyes;  her 
elder  daughter,  faint  and  sobbing;  and 
Dr.  Bond,  who  had  lingered  with  unpro 
fessional  persistence,  preserving  still  his 
air  of  offended  dignity,  but  sullenly  bend 
ing  before  the  imperious  will  of  Dr.  Van 
dyke,  who,  standing  at  the  head  of  the 
bed,  watched  the  girl  with  an  intensity 
which  indicated  the  profound  anxiety 
concealed  beneath  his  collected  expres 
sion. 

All  felt  that  this  man,  in  the  long 
overcoat,  with  the  elfin  gray  locks,  was 
the  master,  and  left  all  to  him.  The  only 
sound  which  disturbed  the  silence  from 
moment  to  moment  was  the  brief,  vibrat 
ing  voice,  demanding  "  Ice !  "  "  More 
ice !  "  The  burning  temples  seeming  to 
melt  it  as  soon  as  it  was  applied.  The 


THE  CRISIS. 


sick  girl,  with  head  thrown  back,  eyes 
closed  or  wandering,  lips  full  of  physical 
agony,  and  cruelly  wasted  already  in  face 
and  form,  was  wrestling  with  the  enemy 
of  Life — Death,  the  pitiless,  the  inexora 
ble. 

All  at  once  the  nmtterings  of  agony 
gave  place  to  words  : 

"  The  breathing !  the  breathing !  there 
in  the  bed !  "  exclaimed  Honoria. 

As  she  uttered  the  words,  she  threw 
herself  violently  to  the  opposite  side  of 
the  bed,  and  said  in  a  scream  almost : 

"The  dagger! — the  weight  upon  my 
shoulders  ! — that  horror  ! — " 

Dr.  Vandyke  went  quickly  to  Lady 
Brand,  and  uttered  a  few  words. 

His  communication  must  have  been  a 
request  that  all  but  the  girl's  mother  and 
himself  should  leave  the  apartment,  as 
Lady  Brand  spoke,  in  a  low  tone  to  her 
husband,  and  all  but  herself  and  the  phy 
sician  went  out  of  the  chamber. 

"  There  is  something  terrible  under 
all  this,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  in  a  low 
tone,  to  the  lady  ;  "  the  case  is  mental- 
physical  remedies  are  of  little  avail." 

"  0  doctor,  can  nothing  be  done  ?  " 

"  Something  —  physical  rcsthesia  is 
practicable;  but — " 

"  Help  !  help  !  "  cried  the  girl,  raising 
her  hands  as  though  to  repulse  some  fear 
ful  object. 

Dr.  Vandyke  pressed  the  bandage  con 
taining  ice  to  her  forehead,  and  with  the 
other  hand  forced  her  to  receive  between 
her  lips  some  drops  of  an  anodyne. 

"  In  ten  minutes  all  will  be  decided," 
he  muttered. 

As  he  spoke,  the  girl  fell  back  uttering 
a  low  moan,  and  then  lay  motionless. 
Her  labored  breathing  only  indicated 
life. 

Dr.  Vandyke  stood  holding  her  pulse, 
and  watching  her  with  the  eyes  of  a 
hawk.  Some  minutes  passed  thus  ;  then 
the  fiery  flush  on  the  patient's  face  faded 
almost  imperceptibly  into  a  less  crimson 
tint,  the  least  observable  moisture  ap 


peared  upon  the  forehead  at  the  roots  of 
the  hair ;  and  through  the  iron  frame  of 
the  physician  a  tremor  passed. 

"  The  pulse  is  moderating !  "  he  said, 
in  a  low  voice ;  "  wait !  " 

And  drawing  from  its  fob  a  large 
watch,  he  counted,  fixing  his  eyes  upon 
the  dial. 

A  minute  passed  in  dead  silence. 

"  Ninety !  "  rang  out  sonorous,  from 
the  lips  of  the  physician  ;  and,  turning  to 
Lady  Brand,  he  added  : 

"  Your  daughter  is  saved  !  " 

An  hour  afterward  there  was  no  lon 
ger  the  least  doubt  of  the  patient's  condi 
tion.  She  was  sleeping  almost  sweetly — 
her  brow  bathed  in  perspiration,  which 
Lady  Brand,  scarce  able  to  suppress  her 
sobs  of  joy,  from  time  to  time  wiped 
away  with  a  handkerchief. 

Dr.  Vandyke  was  down-stairs  eating 
voraciously,  and  oblivious  apparently  of 
the  stately  colonel  and  the  dignified  Dr. 
Bond,  who  were  seated  at  the  same  table, 
drinking  wine. 

"May  I— ahem— have  the  pleasure, 
sir — " 

And  Dr.  Bond,  from  whose  oracular 
lips  issued  these  words,  filled  his  glass, 
and  pushed  the  bottle  to  Dr.  Vandyke. 

"  I  never  drink  wine,"  came  in  a  spe 
cies  of  snap  from  that  personage. 

Dr.  Bond  drew  back  with  hauteur. 

"Unfits  a  physician  for  his  business," 
said  Dr.  Vandyke,  "  and  I  don't  want  it. 
When  I  am  hungry  I  eat." 

"Obviously,  sir,"  was  the  remotely 
satirical  reply  of  Dr.  Bond. 

"Rode  all  day  and  all  night  to  ar 
rive,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  with  his  mouth 
full. 

"  And — ahem — you  think  that  Miss 
Brand-" 

"  I  never  think  !  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  uttered  the  words  with 
extreme  curtness,  and  went  on  eating. 

"  At  least,  sir,"  responded  Dr.  Bond, 
with  lofty  politeness,  "  you  have  formed 


48 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


some  theory  —  ahem  —  of  Miss  Brand's 
case?" 

"Theory?"    " 

"  Theory  I  said,  sir." 

"  No,  I  have  formed  no  theory.  I 
can  see  with  my  eyes.  Miss  Brand  has 
brain-fever." 

"I  was  also  aware  of  that  fact,  sir," 
said  Dr.  Bond,  with  immense  politeness ; 
"  brain-fever,  attributable  to  loss  of  rest, 
dissipation,  and  exposure." 

"  No." 

"Do  I — ahem — understand  you,  sir, 
to  say — " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  understand. 
Miss  Brand  has  brain-fever  produced  by 
other  causes." 

"What  causes?  " 

"I  decline  to  discuss  the  subject." 

Dr.  Bond  rose  with  dignity. 

"  If  I  am  to  be  insulted  in  this  house, 
Colonel  Brand,  I  will  no  longer  intrude. 
It  seems  that  I  am  not  only  not  to  be 
consulted,  but  my  natural  inquiries — 
questions  obviously  drawn  forth  by  the 
case,  sir — are  to  be  treated  with  indig 
nity  !  " 

"  I  never  answer  questions,  and  I  un 
derstand  this  case,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke, 
pushing  back  his  plate.  "  I  am  sent  for 
by  Lady  Brand,  and  I  treat  the  case." 

A  servant  came  at  this  moment  to 
summon  Dr.  Vandyke  to  the  sick-room, 
and  he  went  thither  at  once,  leaving  Dr. 
Bond  in  such  extreme  wrath  that  he 
soon  afterward  left  Kivanna  in  dis 
gust. 

Honoria  was  still  sleeping,  and  the 
healthful  moisture  still  bathed  her  brow. 

"I  am  so  anxious,  doctor,"  said  the 
poor  mother,  in  a  whisper,  "  that  I  wish 
you  to  remain  with  me.  I  disturbed  you 
in—" 

"  No,  I  had  finished  ;  was  undergoing 
a  stupid  interrogation  from  my  brother 
Bond,  who  is  an  ass." 

He  felt  the  pulse  of  the  girl,  and 
said: 

"  All  is  going  on  well,  and  the  force 


of  the  fever  is  spent.  In  three  days  the 
body  will  begin  to  resume  its  normal 
functions  ;  the  mind  remains." 

"  The  mind,  doctor  ?  " 

"  The  mind ;  that  will  be  the  real 
struggle.  Listen  to  me  a  moment." 

And  the  physician  drew  Lady  Brand 
toward  the  window. 

"  I  am  perfectly  familiar  with  this 
type,"  he  said;  "it  is  simple — the  pa 
tient  gets  well  or  dies  quickly — all  that 
is  touch-and-go.  What  follows  it  is  more 
terrible.  I  will  not  bewilder  you  with 
scientific  terms.  In  brief  words,  Hono- 
ria's  attack  will  be  followed  by  perma 
nent  melancholy,  hysteria,  and  worse, 
unless  a  peculiar  course  is  pursued  in  her 
case.  I  will  write  to-day,  delegating  my 
business  in  the  capital  to  an  associate, 
and  remain  here — " 

"  Oh,  thanks— thanks  !  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  looked  at  Lady  Brand 
with  a  peculiar  expression.  When  he 
spoke  his  voice  was  no  longer  cold  and 
vibrating. 

"  I  want  no  thanks,"  he  said.  "  Peo 
ple  call  me  eccentric.  Well,  one  of  my 
eccentricities  is  to  regard  the  daughter 
of  the  woman  I  once  loved  as  my  own. 
You  were  my  only — well,  what  people 
call  their  romance!  I  should  have  been 
happy  had  you  married  me,  and  you  less 
happy — but  enough  of  this.  Let  me  fin 
ish.  In  five  days  from  this  time  Honoria 
will  have  recovered  in  a  great  degree  from 
her  fever,  and  then  we  must  combat  the 
mental  malady  which  will  suroly  super 
vene.  I  will  instruct  you  when  and  how 
to  make  your  inquiries.  This  will  be  of 
importance.  That  very  dignified  dunder 
head  down-stairs  thinks  the  attack  pro 
duced  by  loss  of  rest,  which  is  pure  non 
sense.  It  is  the  result  of  terror — of  a 
breathing  heard  in  that  bed  on  the  night 
of  her  seizure  —  of  something  which 
sprung  or  fell  upon  her  shoulders — of,  I 
know  not  what,  and  yet  I  will  know  !  " 

"  Is  it  possible,  doctor  !  " 

"  Of  that  and  that  alone.     Let  us,  for 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE  AND  LADY  BRAND. 


the  present,  however,  combat  the  physi 
cal  malady — the  mental  must  wait." 

The  doctor  went  and  sat  down,  as  he 
spoke,  in  the  great,  high-backed  arm 
chair,  upon  which  Honoria  had  placed 
the  garment  dipped  in  the  mystic  water. 
As  he  did  so,  he  glanced  quickly  toward 
the  mirror  beyond,  as  though  impressed 
by  some  sudden  idea  connected  with  the 
relative  positions  of  the  two  objects.  His 
present  aim,  however,  seemed  to  be  to 
snatch  a  little  sleep. 

"  I  have  not  closed  my  eyes  for  forty- 
eight  hours,  and  am  a  little  fatigued," 
he  said.  "  This  is  an  excellent  bed — if 
you  will  permit,  madam — I  never  snore !  " 

And,  closing  his  eyes,  the  doctor  fell 
asleep  almost  instantly  —  his  fantastic 
legs,  ending  in  huge  feet  and  buckled 
shoes,  stretched  out  straight  before  him  ; 
his  arms  folded  across  his  broad  chest, 
and  his  face  nearly  concealed  by  the 
long,  gray  locks  of  his  hair. 


XXIII. 

DE.  VANDYKE  AND  LADY  BRAND. 

TEN  days  after  the  scenes  just  de 
scribed,  Lady  Brand  and  Dr.  Vandyke 
were  seated  alone  in  the  library  at  a  late 
hour  of  the  night,  engaged  in  earnest 
conversation. 

Colonel  Brand  had  retired  some  time 
before,  and  no  sound  was  heard  through 
out  the  great  mansion,  save  the  ticking 
of  the  tall  clock  in  its  corner  in  the  hall, 
and  the  sighing  of  the  autumn  wind  in 
the  trees  without. 

Dr.  Vandyke  was  half-buried  in  a 
large  arm-chair,  whose  yielding  cushions 
made  him  resemble  more  than  ever  a  cut 
off  giant ;  and  his  pipe-stem  legs  were 
supported  on  a  velvet  footstool,  in  the 
full  light  of  the  wax-candles  in  silver  can 
delabra— the  light,  soft  but  clear,  bring 
ing  out  in  grand  relief  the  enormous  feet 
in  their  huge  buckled  shoes.  The  gray 
hair  was  pushed  back  for  once  from  his 


forehead ;  his  eyes  were  animated  ;  he 
seemed  to  concentrate  all  the  faculties  of 
tiis  mind  upon  the  communication  being 
made  to  him  by  Lady  Brand,  who,  seated 
opposite  him,  spoke  in  a  rapid  and  some 
what  agitated  voice,  rising  erect  occa 
sionally  in  her  seat,  and  then  leaning 
back  again. 

"  I  have  obeyed  your  instructions," 
she  said.  "  This  evening  Honoria  was 
so  composed  that  I  ventured  to  question 
her  upon  the  occurrences  of  that  unfor 
tunate  night." 

"  Ah  !  "  came  in  a  low  voice  from  Dr. 
Vandyke. 

"  I  was  most  anxious  to  do  so,"  con 
tinued  Lady  Brand,  "  for  what  you  pre 
dicted  has  duly  come  to  pass.  My  child 
is  nearly  well  of  her  mere  physical  dis 
ease,  but  the  terrible  melancholy  and 
nervous  prostration,  which  you  foretold, 
have  come  to  torture  me  and  fill  me  with 
foreboding.  She  starts  at  the  least  noise ; 
never  smiles,  or  seems  at  rest  even ; 
there  is  a  constant  tendency  to  shudder 
observable  in  her;  and  once  or  twice  at 
the  least  trifle — the  movement  of  a  shad 
ow — my  suddenly  rising  from  my  chair 
— she  has  half  screamed." 

Dr.  Vandyke  said,  quickly : 

"  A  shadow  ?  —  rising  from  your 
chair  ?  " 

a  Yes,  the  shadow  of  any  object 
thrown  upon  the  curtains  or  wall  by 
the  firelight— the  lights  are  often  put 
out,  to  avoid  the  glare." 

"  Ah !  shadows,  then,  affright  her. 
Hum  ! — well.  And  rising  from  your 
chair?  What  chair?" 

"  The  large  one,  in  which  I  sit  when 
not  at  the  bedside." 

"  The  invalid  -  chair,  with  a  high 
back?" 

<kYes." 

"  It  remains  in  its  former  position?  " 

"  Yes ;  'tis  really  too  heavy  to  be 
moved  easily,  and  stands,  you  know,  fac 
ing  the  fire,  with  the  back  to  the  bu 
reau." 


50 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"Upon  which  is  the  mirror,  is  it 
not?" 

"  Yes,  doctor  ;  but  pray  what  impor 
tance  can  attach  to—" 

"  I  will  return  to  that  point.  Shad 
ows  ! — rising  from  the  chair! — hum! — 
Will  you  be  good  enough  to  continue, 
madam?  You  this  evening  questioned 
Honoria  :  tell  me  in  detail  what  you  have 
discovered." 

"  I  shall  be  able  to  do  so  in  a  few 
words.  The  subject  seemed  to  agitate 
her  fearfully,  and  nothing  but  your  ex 
press  injunction  could  have  induced  me 
to  press  my  questions." 

"Right;  but  my  injunctions  were 
necessary.  The  mental  disease  has  su 
pervened.  The  physical  has  yielded  to 
treatment;  the  mental  must  be  treated, 
too,  unless  you  wish  a  corpse  in  your 
house.  What  does  the  child  say?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  succinctly  the  result 
of  the  conversation ;  that  is,  all  that  I 
discovered.  You  know  what  preceded 
the  attack,  and  caused  it.  The  young 
ladies  on  a  visit  to  us  determined  to  per 
form  the  superstitious  ceremony  of  eat 
ing  the  dumb-cake,  as  it  is  called — of 
looking  into  a  mirror  to  see  their  future 
husbands — all  absurd,  but  an  old  pastime 
— and  Honoria  was  chosen  to  undergo 
the  ordeal.  She  acquiesced  with  great 
reluctance,  but  was  persuaded  to  com 
ply,  and  courageously  went  through  the 
ceremony  of  going  in  person  for  a  bucket 
of  water  to  the  spot  where  three  streams 
met,  and  bearing  it  to  her  chamber.  It 
is  probable  that  this  agitated  her,  as  the 
night  was  dark,  and  a  fearful  storm  was 
in  progress.  She  went,  however,  to  the 
point,  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the 
house,  returned  hastily,  and,  at  nearly 
midnight,  gained  her  chamber." 

Dr.  Vandyke  listened  with  absorbed 
attention. 

"Well,"  he  said,  briefly. 

"Having  reached  her  apartment, 
Honoria  proceeded  to  perform  the  other 
ceremonies  dictated  by  this  absurd  super 


stition,  of  removing  the  under-garment 
next  to  her  body,  and  dipping  one  of  its 
sleeves  into  the  bucket." 

"Yes,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke. 

"  During  the  performance  of  all  this 
— I  mean  during  the  process  of  undress 
ing,  and  preparing  to  retire — Honoria 
declares  that  her  agitation  was  very 
great.  It  is  probable  that  loss  of  rest, 
arising  from  the  late  hours  kept  during 
the  visit  of  her  young  guests,  may  have 
predisposed  her  nerves  to  be  thus  affect 
ed  ;  but  it  is  possible  that  the  storm  had 
been  chiefly  instrumental  in  exciting  her. 
Whatever  the  cause  may  have  been,  it  is 
plain,  from  her  statement,  that  her  agi 
tation  was  excessive,  and  that  every  ob 
ject  around  her  assumed  a  threatening 
and  terrifying  character.  The  curtains 
of  the  bed  took  the  shape,  she  declares, 
of  a  shroud ;  the  shadows  were  terrify 
ing,  and  a  low  breathing  issued  from  the 
bed,  behind  which  something,  she  knew 
not  what,  seemed  to  be  moving." 

"  ' Something?  you  say — 'something' 
is  vague,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke  ;  "  did  Ho 
noria  describe  in  any  manner  this  some 
thing?" 

"  She  could  not.  I  laughed,  of  course 
— told  her  'twas  nothing — had  she  seen 
any  thing? — to  which  her  agitated  re 
sponse  was,  that  she  had  seen  nothing  at 
all,  but  saw  the  curtains  move,  and  heard 
the  breathing." 

"The  breathing?  Ah!  the  breath 
ing!  "  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  in  a  low  voice ; 
"this  is  so  persistently  alluded  to,  first 
in  delirium,  now  in  a  lucid  condition  of 
mind— well,  decidedly,  I  begin  to  think 
— but  continue,  madam.  Honoria  heard 
this  low  breathing  from  the  bed  whose 
curtains  were  shroud-like — started  at  the 
shadows — aught  more?  " 

"But  one  circumstance,  preceding  the 
real  terror  of  the  night,  which  occurred 
an  hour  later." 

"  That  is  to  say,  at  about  one  in  the 
morning?" 

"  Yes." 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE  AND  LADY  BRAND. 


51 


"And  this  circumstance,  coming  at 
twelve,  to  add  its  effect  to  the  breathing 
and  the  shadows?" 

"It  was  more  singular  than  agitating. 
I  should  have  enumerated,  among  the 
causes  of  Honoria's  agitation,  the  strange 
idea  that  a  portrait  hanging  over  the 
fireplace  followed  her  with  its  eyes,  en 
joyed  her  terror,  and,  at  last,  stretched 
out  its  hand  to  seize  her." 

"  The  poor  child  must  indeed  have 
labored  under  nervous  excitement.  What 
portrait  was  it?  I  did  not  note  it." 

"That  of  Lord  Ruthven— father,  I 
believe,  of  the  young  nobleman  now  in 
Williamsburg." 

"  Ah!  How  does  it  chance  that  this 
portrait  is  here?  " 

"Lord  Ruthven  the  elder  was  a 
friend  of  Colonel  Brand's,  and  presented 
him,  after  the  European  fashion,  with 
his  picture." 

"Well;  but  'twas  singular  that  it 
should  adorn  your  daughter's  chamber, 
was  it  not  ?" 

"  That  is  not  the  least  strange  inci 
dent.  Another  portrait  hung  there  un 
til  within  a  day  or  two  of  the  time  of 
this  unhappy  incident — a  portrait  of  my 
grandfather,  the  elder  Colonel  Seaton. 
By  some  means  the  cord  attaching  the 
picture  to  the  hook  in  the. wall  broke, 
from  age  and  moths,  perchance;  the 
picture  fell— the  fall  broke  the  frame  to 
pieces,  and  thus  the  portrait  could  not 
conveniently  be  reining  in  its  former 
position." 

Dr.  Vandyke  nodded. 

"  So  you  replaced  it  with  another?  " 

"Yes,  the  space  on  the  wall  covered 
by  the  picture  was  clearly  defined  from 
the  rest  of  the  wall,  and  unsightly.  I 
therefore  removed  from  Colonel  Brand's 
dressing  -  room  the  portrait  of  Lord 
Ruthven,  and  hung  it  in  the  place  of  the 
former." 

"  Well ;  and  this  picture  was  one  of 
the  sources  of  Honoria's  terror?" 

"Yes,  it  seemed  to  follow  her  with 


its  eyes,  and  attempt  to  seize  her ;  and, 
added  to  her  other  causes  of  agitation, 
this  nearly  unstrung  her  nerves." 

"  Yes." 

"  She  rose  to  her  feet,  from  the  chair 
on  which  she  sat,  and,  kneeling  before 
which,  she  had  performed  her  devo 
tions." 

"The  great  chair?" 

"Yes." 

"  Continue,  madam." 

"And  then  it  was  that,  having  per 
formed  the  ceremony  of  dipping  the 
sleeve  of  her  under-garment  in  the  buck 
et,  she  turned  to  the  mirror,  just  as  the 
clock  struck  midnight,  to  see  her  future 
husband." 

"Ah!— and  she  saw— ?" 

"The  portrait  of  Lord  Ruthven." 

"The  portrait!" 

"Yes,  doctor.  It  hung  above  the 
fireplace;  and  the  mirror,  you  know, 
stands  against  the  opposite  wall,  the  bed 
being  on  the  right  as  you  go  toward  it, 
and  the  large  double  window  on  the  left." 

"Yes,  yes!" 

"Thus,  in  looking  into  the  mirror, 
Honoria  saw  the  reflection  of  the  portrait 
behind  her." 

"Simple  and  absurd!  So  the  dead 
Lord  Ruthven  was  to  be  her  future 
husband,  since  'twas  him  she  saw  in  the 
magic  mirror?" 

Dr.  Vandyke  uttered  a  grunt. 

"  We  will  talk  of  this  at  another 
time,"  he  said.  "  It  is  unimportant  now. 
This  did  not  cause  Honoria  to  shriek  and 
faint?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  It  simply  made  her  more 
nervous,  but  the  reflection  of  the  object 
in  the  mirror  was  obviously  so  natural 
that  it  impressed  her  instantly." 

"  Her  next  proceeding  ?  " 

"  She  retired  quickly  to  the  great 
|  bed,  from  which  the  breathing  was  no 
longer  heard;  and  it  was  about  an  hour 
afterward,  when  she  had  been  asleep  for 
a  brief  space  of  time,  that  the  horror  of 
the  night  came." 


52 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


Dr.  Vandyke  made  a  slight  move 
ment  with  his  head,  and  said : 

"  We  come  now  to  the  point  of  most 
importance  in  the  case.  What  was  this 
horror?  Relate,  as  minutely  as  possible, 
what  occurred." 


XXIV. 

THE   HOKROE. 

LADY  BRAND  paused  for  some  mo 
ments,  and  seemed  to  labor  under  very 
great  agitation. 

"  My  poor  child  !  "  she  said,  at  length. 
"  Doctor,  you  can  scarcely  conceive  how 
dangerously  excited  she  grew  while  re 
lating  the  last  and  most  terrible  events 
of  this  horrible  night.  She  became  as 
white  as  a  corpse,  her  voice  was  almost 
hollow  in  its  accent;  and,  O  doctor, 
doctor  !  there  was  something  in  the  ex- 
pivssion  of  her  eyes  which  I  did  not 
like— I  feared—" 

"  Yes.  and  justly.  Your  daughter 
has  narrowly  escaped  death  from  brain- 
fever:  what  I  aim  at  now  is  to  prevent 
what  is  worse  than  death— insanity." 

Lady  Brand  sobbed  for  some  mo 
ments,  but  recovered  her  self-command 
at  length,  and  said,  firmly  : 

"I  shall  givre  you  the  exact  substance 
of  Honoria's  statement,  doctor — a  state 
ment  made  in  broken  words,  as  I  held 
her  in  my  arms.  She  shook  with  ner 
vous  excitement ;  but  there  is  something 
in  being  near  a  mother's  heart  which 
calms  a  child,  I  think,  and  gives  assur 
ance  of  safety.  Honoria  seemed  to  feel 
this,  and,  spite  of  her  frightful  agitation, 
went  through  with  her  narrative  up  to 
the  moment  when  she  fainted  and  fell." 

"  In  front  of  the  mirror?  " 

"Yes,  doctor." 

Dr.  Vandyke  knit  his  brows,  and 
seemed  to  be  concentrating  all  the  facul 
ties  of  his  mind  upon  one  single  idea. 

"Allow  me  to  ask  you  one  or  two 
questions  before  you  proceed,"  he  said. 


The  lady  inclined  her  head  and  lis 
tened. 

"  Has  any  change  been  made  in  the 
position  of  the  furniture  ?  " 

"In  Honoria's  chamber,  you  mean?  " 

"Yes." 

"None  at  all.  Everything  remains 
in  the  same  position  which  it  formerly 
occupied." 

"  Good !  that  simplifies  matters.  Now, 
madam,  let  us  see.  Entering  the  chamber 
by  the  single  door — for  there  is  but  one 
door,  I  believe  ?  " 

"But  one,"  said  Lady  Brand,  indi 
cating,  by  the  expression  of  her  coun 
tenance,  the  surprise  which  she  felt  at 
this  apparently  irrelevant  question.  The 
doctor  perceived  this  expression,  and 
said: 

"  I  will  indicate  later  the  object  of 
these  interrogatories.  In  entering  your 
daughter's  apartment  you  have,  immedi 
ately  upon  your  right,  the  fireplace ;  in 
front  of  it  the  large  arm-chair,  facing  the 
fire;  against  the  opposite  wall  the  toilet- 
table  and  mirror;  on  the  left  of  the 
mirror  a  double  window ;  on  the  right 
the  great  bed.  Is  that  all,  madam  ?  " 

"With  the  exception  of  the  ordinary 
number  of  chairs,  stools,  the  carpet,  and 
an  old  linen-chest." 

"A  chest?  In  what  part  of  the 
room  is  this  chest?" 

"  In  the  corner  beyond  the  fireplace. 
But  it  is  not  used  now ;  the  key  has  been 
lost,  and  the  chest  has  not  been  opened, 
I  think,  for  twenty  years." 

"  Hum !  I  care  nothing,  however,  for 
the  chest ;  and  I  have  in  my  mind  now  a 
picture  of  the  theatre  of  this  strange 
drama.  A  fireplace,  with  a  portrait 
above  it— a  great  chair  in  front — a  mirror 
against  the  opposite  wall — a  window,  a 
bed,  and  in  this  bed  Honoria  asleep  at 
half  an  hour  or  an  hour  past  midnight. 
What  then  occurred,  madam  ? — something 
frightful,  I  fear,  and  any  scientific  pro 
pensity  to  sneer  or  jest  dies  in  rne  at  the 
thought  of  Honoria.  This  child  has  seen, 


THE   HORROR. 


53 


or  believes  she  has  seen,  something  ter 
rible — some  object  such  as  the  grave 
gives  up  when  the  cerements  of  the  dead 
are  torn  away — speak,  now,  and  tell  me 
what  this  horror  was  !  " 

"I  shall  proceed  to  do  so,"  said  Lady 
Brand,  in  a  low  and  nervous  voice.  "  I 
have  scarce  recovered  from  the  shock  of 
the  narrative,  and  recall  every  particu 
lar." 

"  Good,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  fixing  his 
penetrating  eyes  on  the  face  of  the  lady ; 
"it  is  precisely  these  particular  details 
which  I  wish  to  ascertain.  I  know  that 
Honoria  saw  something — was  assailed 
by  something,  or  that  she  fancied  as 
much — and  that  she  shrieked  and  fainted. 
"What  I  wish  now  to  know  is  the  hour 
of  the  night,  the  position  she  occupied 
at  the  moment — all — and  especially  what 
seems  trifling  and  unimportant." 

"You  shall  know  all,  doctor,  and  in 
as  brief  terms  as  possible.  Honoria  de 
clares  that  she  retired  at  a  few  minutes 
past  midnight,  and  lay  awake  for  some 
time,  the  victim  of  nervous  agitation. 
The  breathing  which  had  so  much  alarmed 
her  was  no  longer  heard,  and  the  portrait 
was  thrown  into  shadow  now ;  but  it 
was  some  time  before  she  could  compose 
herself  sufficiently  to  sleep.  Finally, 
however,  exhaustion  brought  on  slumber, 
or  rather  a  species  of  half-consciousness, 
and  she  either  saw  or  dreamed  that  she 
saw  a  gigantic  and  shadowy  arm — in  the 
hand  a  dagger — and  this  arm  rose  and 
fell  three  times,  striking  the  weapon  into 
the  white  garment  which  Honoria  had 
placed  upon  the  chair." 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  coolly, 
"what  next?" 

"  The  occurrence  was  so  real — or  the 
vision  so  vivid — that  Honoria  declares 
she  must  have  fainted.  When  she  opened 
her  eyes — in  a  few  minutes,  as  she  sup 
poses — the  apartment  was  darker  than 
before,  and  the  storm  which  had  raged 
up  to  this  time  was  dying  away.  All 
was  still,  except  the  far  mutter  of  thunder 


and  the  low  hissing  of  the  expiring  fire. 
It  must  then  have  been  nearly  one  in  the 
morning,  and  Honoria  felt  a  new  access 
of  terror  at  the  thought  that  she  alone, 
in  all  probability,  was  awake  in  the  house. 
By  degrees,  however,  this  terror  moderat 
ed  ;  she  began  to  reason  with  herself  upon 
the  occurrences  of  the  night.  Might  that 
all  have  been  the  result  of  her  fancy — 
the  product  of  a  diseased  imagination 
starting  at  the  simplest  noises?  The 
breathing  might  have  been  the  sighing 
of  the  wind  in  the  great  oak  without — 
the  arm  striking  at  the  garment  a  mere 
effect  of  light  and  shadow — the  strange 
expression  of  the  portrait  undoubtedly  a 
fantasy.  Honoria,  doctor,  is  of  a  very 
delicate  and  sensitive  organization,  but 
then  she  is  a  girl  of  excellent  sense  too ; 
and  this  process  of  reasoning  upon  her 
fears  gradually  restored  her  self-possession 
and  in  some  degree  quieted  her  nerves." 

The  doctor  nodded. 

"  I  know  the  class  to  which  she  be 
longs,"  he  said,  "the  nervous-sanguine- 
lymphatic.  Proceed,  madam." 

"  Honoria  reached  at  last,  doctor, 
a  degree  of  composure  which  induced 
her  to  resolve  upon  discovering  whether 
there  were  any  grounds  for  what  ap 
peared  to  her  to  be  an  absurd  fancy,  if 
not  a  dream — to  ascertain,  in  a  word, 
whether  the  garment  or  the  chair  were 
not  injured.  If  the  weapon  in  the  hand 
of  the  shadow  had  been  a  real  weapon 
and  had  pierced  the  garment,  there  must 
be  some  hole  or  rent  to  show  where  the 
point  had  entered ;  if  there  were  none, 
tli en  it  was  a  dream.  This  resolution  she 
proceeded  to  carry  out.  She  rose  from 
bed,  stole  in  her  bare  feet  to  the  spot 
where  the  garment  hung,  raised  it  in  the 
glimmering  half-light  from  the  dying  fire, 
;ui(l  was  about  to  examine  it,  when  there 
suddenly  fell  to  the  floor,  with  a  ringing 
clash,  an  antique  poniard — !  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  shook  his  head. 

"  The  case  is  worse  than  I  had  sup 
posed,"  he  muttered. 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


Lady  Brand  continued,  with  white 
cheeks  now,  and  a  tremor  in  her  voice  : 

"  The  worst  of  all,  the  most  terrifying 
event  of  all  was  yet  to  come !  "  she  said, 
almost  in  a  whisper. 

The  doctor  bent  forward — this  time 
with  a  fixed  and  piercing  look  which 
indicated  that  even  his  ever-firm  nerves 
began  to  be  affected  by  the  strange  recital. 

"  That  is  not  all,  then— but  I  had  for 
gotten  ! — the  ' horror' — the  '  weight  upon 
the  shoulders' — !  " 

"  You  recall  the  delirious  raving  of 
my  child,  I  see ! "  said  Lady  Brand, 
trembling.  "A  few  words  more  will 
tell  you  all.  When  the  weapon  fell,  or 
when  Ilonoria  thought  it  fell,  she  recoiled 
from  the  chair,  turning  her  head  from  it, 
and  covering  her  face,  when  suddenly, 
she  declares,  some  horrible  thing  or 
being  leaped  or  fell  upon  her  shoulders — 
clutched  her,  and,  crouching  like  a  cat, 
gibbered  and  tore  at  her  with  its  teeth !  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  had  grown  a  little  pale, 
and  shook  his  head  ominously. 

"  What  next  ?  "  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  It  was  then  that  Honoria  uttered 
the  piercing  shriek  which  attracted  her 
companions  to  her  chamber,  and  fell 
fainting  upon  the  floor.  After  this  she 
remembers  nothing." 

"  One  word  before  you  finish,  madam," 
and  Dr.  Vandyke  knit  his  brows.  "  You 
say  that  Honoria  recoiled  from  the 
chair,  turning  away  her  head  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Then  her  back  was  to  the  large 
chair?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Her  face  to  the  mirror  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  she  look  into  the  mirror — if  so, 
what  did  she  see,  or  fancy  she  saw  ?  " 

"  I  was  about  to  tell  you,"  said  Lady 
Brand,  in  the  same  awe-struck  whisper. 
"The  apartment  was  nearly  in  total 
darkness,  but  Honoria's  quick  glance 
toward  the  mirror  showed  her  a  shadowy, 
crouching  thing  upon  her  back — a  name 


less  something  of  no  defined  shape — then, 
paralyzed  by  this  final  terror,  she  lost 
consciousness  and  fell  heavily  to  the 
floor." 

Dr.  Vandyke  remained  for  some  mo 
ments  buried  in  gloomy  meditation.  He 
then  raised  his  head,  and  uttered  a  deep 
sigh. 

"  Nothing,  of  course,  was  found  when 
the  young  ladies  went  to  the  chamber?  " 
he  said. 

"  Nothing." 

"  The  garment  was  on  the  chair  still  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  There  were  no  rents  in  it  ?  " 

"None." 

"  No  dagger  on  the  floor  ?  " 

"  None." 

"And  Honoria  was  alone — the  cham 
ber  had  no  other  occupant  ?  " 

"  I  know  that  there  was  no  one  else 
in  the  apartment;  I  reached  it  almost 
as  soon  as  the  girls,  and,  thinking  that  a 
dog  or  something  else  beneath  the  bed — 
there  is  no  other  place  of  concealment — 
had  frightened  Honoria,  instituted  an  im 
mediate  search." 

"And  there  was  nothing?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  The  room  has  no  closet?  " 

"  None,  doctor." 

Dr.  Vandyke  reflected  again,  preserv 
ing  the  same  melancholy  silence. 

"And  this  is  all,  madam  ?  " 

"  All,  doctor." 

"  You  have  omitted  nothing  ?  " 

"  Nothing  whatever  that  I  can  recall." 

The  doctor  uttered  something  like  a 
groan. 

" God  help  us!  "  he  muttered. 

"  0  doctor,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  looked  at  the  lady  with 
eyes  full  of  pity. 

"I  mean,  madam,"  he  said,  solemnly, 
"  that  the  inscrutable  Power  which  rules 
this  world  and  all  the  worlds  has  seen 
fit  to  visit  you  with  a  great  misfortune." 

"  O  doctor,  doctor !  speak !  —  tell 
me—!" 


TREATMENT. 


55 


"  You  are  strong,  and  should  know. 
Honoris  lias — dormant  in  her  mental  or 
ganization,  and  in  process  of  develop 
ment  at  this  moment — insanity." 

Lady  Brand  sobbed  hopelessly,  cover 
ing  her  pale  face  with  her  hands. 

"And  is  there  no  cure?  "  she  said,  in 
a  broken  voice. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke.  "  The 
case  is  a  strange  one,  madam — you  see  I 
waste  no  time  in  commonplace  consola 
tion,  in  soothing  expressions.  Your 
lady  friends  will  furnish  that — I  am  the 
physician,  and  this  time  the  physician 
not  only  of  the  body  but  the  mind.  I 
have  cured  the  body  nearly — the  mind 
remains  ;  and  to  cure  that  will  be  more 
difficult.  I  shall  nevertheless  do  all  in 
rny  power,  leaving  the  rest  to  that  all- 
wise  and  all-merciful  Being  disregarded 
or  not  believed  in  by  fools  and  savants, 
but  in  whom  I  believe  ;  to  whom  I  look, 
as  the  first  great  cause,  the  arbiter  of 
all." 

Dr.  Vandyke  rose  as  he  spoke. 

"To-morrow,  madam,"  he  said,  "I 
shall  make  my  diagnosis  fully,  and  com 
mence  my  treatment." 


XXV. 

TREATMENT. 

Dr.  Vandyke  came  down-stairs 
on  the  next  morning,  he  found  Lady 
Brand  in  the  library,  and  requested  her 
to  walk  upon  the  lawn  and  converse 
with  him  for  a  few  moments. 

The  lady  rose  quickly,  drying  with 
her  handkerchief  some  tears  that  were 
in  her  eyes,  and  the  two  persons  walked 
out  beneath  the  great  oaks  and  disap 
peared. 

They  did  not  return  for  an  hour.  As 
they  came  back  toward  the  house,  it  was 
obvious,  from  the  expression  of  Dr.  Van 
dyke's  countenance,  that  the  result  of 
the  colloquy  had  been  such  as  to  afford 
him  extreme  satisfaction.  The  melan 


choly  air  which  had  characterized  him 
on  the  preceding  evening  had  disap 
peared  ;  his  demeanor  was  animated, 
and  he  murmured: 

"  I  know,  or  think  I  know  !  Now, 
to  find  if  my  knowledge  will  prove  of 
any  avail  1 " 

On  the  same  evening,  he  went  to 
Honoria's  chamber  with  Lady  Brand. 
The  girl  lay  still  and  quiet  in  her  great 
white  bed,  her  eyes  dreamy  and  full  of 
apathy. 

Dr.  Vandyke  uttered  a  cheerful  laugh. 
"  Well,  my  dear  child,"  he  said,  as  he 
approached  her,  "the  roses  are  coming 
back  to  their  native  soil — your  cheeks." 

Honoria  raised  her  'great  eyes,  set 
like  stars  in  the  wasted  face,  and  looked 
at  the  speaker  in  a  dreamy  way.  Then 
she  tried  to  smile,  but  closed  her  eyes  as 
though  the  effort  overcame  her. 

"  I  have  never  seen  anybody  get  well 
so  quickly,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  in  a 
cheery  voice. 

Honoria  made  no  reply. 

"  You  have  been  quite  sick,  my 
child,"  continued  the  doctor,  in  his  hearty 
tone,  "  and  we  have  all  felt  much  solici 
tude  ;  but  nothing  in  this  world  is  un 
alloyed — not  even  unhappiness.  Sick 
ness  has  its  comforts ;  one  of  these  is 
the  sympathy  of  our  friends,  and  every 
body  has  been  to  see  you.  Those  who 
could  not  be  admitted,  have  left  mes 
sages,  and  my  young  friend  Edmund  In- 
nis  commissioned  me — " 

The  pale  face  suddenly  flushed,  and 
the  great  eyes  opened.  At  that  name, 
some  of  the  apathy  disappeared. 

"  His  message  is,  that  you  must  soon 
get  well,  and — 

The  doctor  bent  down  and  added : 

"  He  says  you  are  his  sunshine,  and 
that  lie  cannot  live  in  darkness." 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  flat  false 
hood  was  blotted  from  the  book  of  the 
recording  angel.  It  caused  Iloiioria  to 
look  up  eagerly,  and  brought  back  to  her 
face  something  almost  like  animation. 


56 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


Dr.  Vandyke  saw  his  advantage,  and 
pressed  it. 

"  Well,  little  Miss  Sunshine,"  he  said, 
laughing,  "I  hope  you  will  begin  to 
shine  down-stairs  very  soon  now,  and, 
when  I  return  to  visit  this  respectable 
family,  I  expect  to  find  you  tripping 
over  the  lawn,  or  dancing  gavottes  and 
reels  to  the  music  of  the  fiddle." 

Honoria  shook  her  head. 

"  You  are  not  going  away,  doctor  ?  " 
she  said. 

"  Yes." 

"  And  leave  me  ?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"I  am  not  well,"  she  said,  wearily. 

"  You  will  be  in  a  week." 

"  No,  no  !  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  gazed  at  her  with  his 
subtile  and  penetrating  glance,  and  from 
the  quiet  change  in  his  expression  it  was 
evident  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
act  promptly  and  with  vigor. 

"Why  do  you  indulge  this  melan 
choly  mood,  my  dear  child,"  he  said, 
"  you  are  rapidly  recovering.  You  sleep 
well,  do  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  came  in  a  hesitating  voice. 

"  No  fancies,  and  imaginary  sounds,  I 
suppose — no  low  breathing — ha!  ha! — 
from  behind  your  bed?  " 

Honoria  shuddered,  closing  her  eyes. 

"  That  was  the  most  absurd  and 
laughable  idea  imaginable,"  said  Dr. 
Vandyke ;  "  or  at  least  to  be  frightened 
by  it.  A  breathing  ! — why,  there  it  is 
now !  " 

Ilonoria  half  started  up. 

"  O  doctor !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"What  is  it?     I'll  find!" 

And,  raising  the  counterpane,  the 
astute  Dr.  Vandyke  drew  forth  a  small 
spaniel,  the  pet  of  Lou  Brand,  who 
had  placed  the  dog  there  while  Honoria 
was  asleep,  in  compliance  with  the  re 
quest  of  the  physician. 

Tli at  personage  burst  into  a  hearty 
laugh. 

"  Well,  after  all,  you  were  right,  my 


dear!"  he  said,  "there  was  a  frightful 
low  breathing — Carlo,  to  wit." 

It  could  be  seen  at  a  glance  that  this 
prosaic  and  commonplace  explanation 
of  one  source  of  her  nocturnal  terror 
had  made  a  profound  impression  upon 
Ilonoria.  She  did  not  speak,  but  her 
eyes  spoke  volumes. 

"  This  habit  that  dogs  have  of  creep 
ing  under  beds  to  sleep  or  protect  them 
selves  from  flies,  is  one  of  the  greatest 
objections  to  making  household  pets  of 
them,"  said  the  doctor. 

And,  turning  to  Carlo,  he  added, 
laughing : 

"  Come,  my  interesting  young  friend, 
will  you  be  good  enough  to  entertain  us 
by  your  peculiar  wheeze,  attributable 
doubtless  to  dog-asthma  ?  " 

As  though  in  response  to  these 
words,  Carlo,  who  had  stretched  himself 
upon  the  floor,  uttered  a  low,  asthmatic 
sound,  as  though  he  experienced  a  diffi 
culty  in  breathing. 

Dr.  Vandyke  looked  sidewise  at  Ho 
noria.  She  was  silent,  but  he  saw  that 
her  mind  had  received  the  impression 
which  he  aimed  to  produce. 

"  Go  out  now,  if  you  please,  -Mr. 
Carlo,"  he  said,  "and  play  in  the  sun 
shine.  There  is  a  superb  amount  of  it 
to-day. — And,  by-the-by,  madam,"  he 
continued,  addressing  Lady  Brand,  "  is 
there  not  too  much  light  in  this  cham 
ber  ?  It  may  be  painful  to  your  daugh 
ter's  eyes." 

Lady  Brand  went  to  close  the  blinds. 

"But  no,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  "'tis 
better,  perhaps  —  more  cheerful ;  and 
these  shadows  moving  to  and  fro  on  the 
wall  are  cool  and  refreshing.  What  sin 
gular  shapes  they  take ! — the  bough  of 
the  great  oak  yonder  resembles  an  arm 
grasping  a  dagger,  and,  if  a  good  strong 
wind  were  to  arise,  I  can  fancy  that  the 
shadow,  especially  by  moonlight,  would 
appear  fearful — would  become,  in  fancy, 
a  gigantic  arm  and  poniard  raised  to 
strike." 


TREATMENT. 


Honoria  started  again.  She  was  gaz 
ing  at  Dr.  Vandyke,  with  her  whole  soul 
in  her  eyes. 

"  What  are  you  looking  at,  my  dear 
child  ?  "  he  said,  cheerfully.  "  You  really 
make  me  afraid  with  your  intense  gaze  ! 
'Tis  as  bad  as  the  look  of  the  old  fellow 
up  yonder,  who  has  been  staring  me  out 
of  countenance  since  my  entrance.  Look 
at  him !  " 

And,  taking  a  broomstick,  Dr.  Van 
dyke  got  up  on  a  chair,  thrust  the  stick 
into  Lord  Kuthven's  face,  and  assumed 
the  persuasive  attitude  of  a  public  lec 
turer  upon  science,  with  accompanying 
diagrams. 

"Behold  the  queer  conformation  of 
the  human  eye,  so  well  depicted  here !  " 
he  said,  poking  the  portrait  in  the  eye 
with  a  movement  so  awkward  that  it  was 
wellnigh  impossible  not  to  laugh.  "  It 
seems  to  follow  you — speak  to  you — go 
to  the  right  or  left,  it  still  looks  at  you — 
stares  at  you  :  this  absurd,  painted,  hu 
man  eye! — Really,  madam,"  he  said  to 
Lady  Brand,  "  I  would  take  this  grum 
and  disagreeable  fellow  out.  Did  you 
say  the  wall  was  disfigured  behind 
it?" 

He  suddenly  thrust  the  picture  to  one 
side  and  showed  the  wall. 

"  See,  it  is  nothing ;  remove  it,  mad 
am,  or  each  time  you  enter  this  room  you 
will  have  this  old  Sir  Blunderbuss  follow 
ing  you  with  his  eyes." 

"  I  will  remove  it  to-day,  doctor,  as 
you  suggest." 

"  Oh,  'tis  not  so  important.  For  my 
self,  all  the  pictures  in  the  world  may 
stare  at  me. — Shut  your  stupid  eyes,  my 
dear  Sir  Blunderbuss  !  " 

And  administering  a  final  poke  with 
the  broomstick  into  the  face  of  the  pict 
ure,  Dr.  Vandyke  descended,  laughing,  to 
the  floor. 

As  he  did  so,  he  glanced  furflvely  at 
Honoria.  She  was  smiling,  either  at 
the  absurd  antics  of  the  peculiar  person 
age,  or  with  a  sense  of  relief  from  old 


fears  connected  with  the  portrait,  thus 
turned  completely  into  ridicule. 

Dr.  Vandyke  prepared  for  the  final 
scene  of  his  acting.  Suddenly  he  mount 
ed  into  the  great  high-backed  chair 
standing  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  leaned 
his  arms  on  the  huge  back,  rested  his 
enormous  head,  with  its  long,  elfin  gray 
locks,  upon  the  folded  arms,  and  grinned 
amiably.  His  expression  was  so  ludicrous 
indeed  that  Honoria  uttered  a  slight 
laugh. 

A  quick  glance  from  Dr.  Vandyke 
toward  Lady  Brand  seemed  to  warn  her 
that  her  aid  in  the  performance  was 
now  required.  She  moved  to  the  space 
between  the  chair  and  the  mirror,  and 
turned  toward  the  latter,  when,  with  the 
agility  of  a  cat,  Dr.  Vandyke  bounded 
over  the  back  of  the  great  chair,  and  lit 
upon  her  shoulder. 

Honoria  uttered  a  scream,  and  cried  : 

"  O  doctor  !  The  frightful  thing  !— 
the  horror !  " 

"  The  nonsense  and  tomfoolery,  my 
dear  child,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  with  a 
laugh,  and  lighting  on  his  feet ;  "  call 
things  by  their  right  names,  and  let  us 
have  done  with  absurdities." 

Honoria  was  looking  at  him  witli  an 
imated  eyes.  A  sudden  revulsion  seemed 
to  have  taken  place  in  her  feelings — a 
change  in  her  mental  condition.  There 
was  no  longer  in  her  eyes  that  vacant 
and  apathetic  expression  which  had 
made  the  heart  of  the  experienced  phy 
sician  sink  within  him — a  natural  and 
healthful  light  began  to  animate  her 
glance ;  the  medicine  for  the  mind  was 
having  its  effect,  like  the  medicine  for 
the  body. 

No  sooner  had  Dr.  Vandyke  descried 
this  longed-for  alteration  in  Honoria,  than 
he  said  to  Lady  Brand  : 

"I  will  go  and  write  some  letters 
now,  madam,  and  I  think  Honoria  had 
best  sleep  a  little.  Place  the  bell  beside 
her  hand,  and  show  me  where  I  may 
write." 


58 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


Lady  Brand  quietly  obeyed,  and  went, 
toward  the  door.  Dr.  Vandyke  followed 
her,  but  suddenly  turned. 

"I  had  nearly  forgotten  you,  my 
gruin  friend,"  he  said  to  the  portrait  of 
Lord  Ruthven. 

And,  mounting  with  agility  upon  a 
chair,  he  placed  one  foot  upon  an  abut 
ment  of  the  mantel-piece,  and  uncere 
moniously  pulled  down  the  fearful  por 
trait,  which  he  tucked  under  his  arm  and 
bore  from  the  apartment. 

As  soon  as  the  door  was  closed,  Dr. 
Vandyke's  face  assumed  its  habitual  ex 
pression  of  coolness,  and,  taking  a  large 
handkerchief  from  his  coat-pocket,  he 
wiped  his  forehead. 

"Acting  fatigues!"  he  said;  "but 
the  end  is  reached — or  nearly." 

"  Yes,  yes,  doctor  !  " 

He  deposited  the  picture  in  a  corner, 
and  gave  it  a  kick. 

"  I  would  put  that  rubbish  in  the  gar 
ret,  madam,"  he  said,  "  and  hang  above 
Honoriu's  fireplace  a  flower-piece  or 
cheerful  landscape.  All  depends  now 
upon  trifles.  Let  her  reflect,  and  allow 
my  medicine  to  work.  To-morrow  I 
hope  to  finish  the  cure." 


XXVI. 

THE    MYSTERY. 

WHEN  Dr.  Vandyke  entered  Honoria's 
chamber,  on  the  next  morning,  his  coun 
tenance  wore  the  same  cheerful  and  ani 
mated  expression. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "  any  more 
shadows — breathings,  etc.,  etc.  ?  " 

A  last  remnant  of  nervous  agitation 
passed  through  the  frame  of  the  young 
lady,  but  she  replied  in  a  sweet  and  seri 
ous  tone : 

"  Oh,  no !  I  hope  these  fancies  have 
left  me—" 

"  Ah,  ah !  you  call  them  fancies,  do 
you  ?  That  shows  that  you  are  cured." 


"  They  must  have  been  fancies,  doc 
tor  ;  and  yet — that  strange  thing — " 

The  old  shudder  came  back,  and  Ho 
noria's  eyes  assumed  an  expression  which 
induced  Dr.  Vandyke  to  exclaim  : 

"  Come,  come  !  every  thing  in  order. 
I  will  come  to  that  1  " 

"Come  to  it,  doctor?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  I  propose  to  deliver 
a  brief  lecture  this  morning  upon  natural 
phenomena,  with  the  effect  produced  by 
them  upon  the  human  mind.  The  term 
lecture  may  fright  you,  but  be  tranquil. 
I  aim  only  to  explain  a  circumstance  or 
two.  It  will  be  best  that  you  should 
have  this  explanation." 

"Yes,  doctor." 

"  And  you  feel,  I  hope,  that  affection 
as  well  as  professional  duty  prompts  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  indeed  !  Something  in 
your  face  tells  me  that  you  have  for  me 
— that  you  really — love  me !  " 

"  My  face  interprets  my  heart,  Hono- 
ria,"  said  the  eccentric  physician,  with  a 
quick  flush  ;  and,  taking  in  his  own  the 
thin,  white  hand  of  the  girl,  he  said, 
earnestly : 

"  I  loved  your  mother  once,  Honoria 
— I  mean,  was  her  suitor  ;  and  what  bet 
ter  means  could  I  adopt,  to  prove  the  sin 
cerity  of  my  love,  than  to  cure  her  child  ? 
I  have  effected  this  cure,  or  nearly  ef 
fected  it — you  see  that  I  speak  to  you 
as  a  rational  being,  which  you  were  not 
yesterday  morning." 

Honoria  sobbed. 

"I  fear  I  was  not,  doctor.  Those 
terrible  sights  and  sounds — " 

"  Stop,  Ilonoria !  No  more  nervous 
tremors — no  more  shuddering.  Listen 
to  me,  and  the  last  remains  of  your  fright 
will  disappear." 

The  girl  raised  her  head  and  gazed  at 
him  with  deep  earnestness. 

"Let  us  divide  the  phenomena,  or 
supposed  phenomena,  into  four  parts," 
said  Dr.  Vandyke,  coolly.  "  You  hear  a 
low  breathing  from  the  bed  in  your 
chamber;  the  eyes  of  a  picture  make 


THE   MYSTERY. 


59 


you  afraid ;  a  shadow.y  dagger  strikes  at 
your  night  -  dress ;  and  some  nameless 
thing  leaps  on  your  shoulders.  Is  that 
all?" 

"  Yes,  doctor,"  was  the  reply,  in  a 
low  and  nervous  voice. 

"  Well,  now,  for  elucidation  of  these 
terrible  phenomena,"  said  the  physician. 
"  You  repaired  to  your  chamber  on  the 
night  of  the  performance  of  this  absurd 
dumb-cake  ceremony,  in  a  high  state 
of  nervous  excitement,  consequent  upon 
terror  at  the  storm  through  which  you 
had  passed,  and  superstitious  fear.  Well, 
the  first  thing  you  hear  is  a  mysterious 
breathing  from  your  bed — then  a  pict 
ure  stares  at  you — then  an  arm  wields  a 
poniard.  Let  us  stop  there  for  the  pres 
ent,  and  let  me  ask  you  if  you  now 
doubt  the  real  character  of  those  phe 
nomena  ?  The  breathing  from  the  bed 
was  the  wind,  or  a  dog,  or  a  cat,  or 
— nothing!  The  eyes  of  the  portrait 
looked  at  you,  as  the  eyes  of  all  good 
portraits  look  at  all  persons,  whatever 
position  is  taken  up,  either  to  the  right, 
to  the  left,  or  in  front.  Lastly,  the  gi 
gantic  and  frightful  arm,  grasping  the 
dagger,  seen  when  you  were  half  asleep, 
and  half  conscious,  was  simply  the 
shadow  of  that  bough  of  the  oak  yon 
der  through  the  window,  which  shadow 
was  cast  by  the  moon,  and  waved,  as 
the  bough  waved,  in  a  manner  so  pecul 
iarly  terrifying  that  it  produced  brain- 
fever.  So  far  you  understand,  do  you 
not,  rny  child  ?  " 

"Yes,  doctor,"  came  in  a  low  tone 
from  Honoria,  "but — " 

"  The  horror !  the  frightful,  nameless 
something — the  nightmare,  bugbear,  call 
it  what  you  will!  " 

The  doctor  burst  out  laughing,  in 
spite  of  Honoria's  quick  shudder. 

"  That  was  the  only  real  part  of  the 
whole  phenomena,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke, 
coolly.  "  The  thing,  or  individual,  rather, 
who  leaped  from  that  chair,  as  you  saw 
me  leap,  was — Meta !  " 


Honoria  half  rose,  exclaiming  : 

"Meta!  doctor?" 

"  Meta,"  was  the  calm  response,  "  who 
had  hidden  herself  in  this  apartment  to 
frighten  you  during  the  ordeal  of  the 
dumb-cake — who  may  or  may  not  have 
uttered  the  low  breathing  from  the  bed 
— who  certainly  did  spring  upon  your 
shoulders." 

"  O  doctor !  is  it  possible  ?  It  can 
not  be  that  Meta  could  have  been  so 
cruel—" 

"Meta  is  a  lunatic,  or  nearly  so," 
was  the  calm  reply,  "  and  lunatics  are 
both  cunning  and  malevolent." 

"  But  what  motive  could  she  have  ?  " 

"  To  frighten  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  doctor." 

"  Hatred  arising  from — jealousy." 

"Jealousy!" 

Honoria  gazed  at  Dr.  Vandyke,  as 
she  uttered  this  word,  with  profound 
astonishment. 

"  Yes,  my  child,"  said  the  physician. 
"  Listen.  As  soon  as  I  entered  this 
house,  and  ascertained  the  causes  of  your 
condition,  I  concentrated  my  whole  mind 
upon  the  question  —  who  was  it  that 
frightened  you — not  what?  A  human 
being  must  have  caused  you  to  fall  with 
that  piercing  shriek;  and  the  mystery 
was — what  human  being?  No  servant 
would  have  dared — no  young  lady  friend 
have  been  so  cruel.  Thus  the  irresistible 
conclusion  was,  that  some  idiot,  or  other 
weak-minded  person,  must  have  been 
guilty  of  this  act,  and  there  was  such  a 
person  in  the  family.  So  far,  the  chain 
of  reasoning  was  perfect;  but  what 
motive  could  exist  for  the  act  of  this 
girl,  who  was  supposed  to  love  you? 
Even  with  idiots  there  is  a  motive,  and 
I  questioned  Lady  Brand,  the  servants, 
and  all,  so  closely  that  I  discovered  what 
I  wished  to  know." 

"The  motive — O  doctor  what  could 
it  have  been?  Jealousy?  Jealousy  of 
me—f" 

"  Precisely,"     said    Dr.     Vandyke ; 


60 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"Meta  happens  to  have  fallen  in  love 
with  a  young  gentleman  named  Edmund 
Innis ;  she  knows  that  he  loves  you  — 
there,  the  words  are  uttered! — she  over 
heard,  in  the  drawing-room,  the  whole 
discussion  in  regard  to  the  dumb-cake, 
and  she  hid  in  this  chamber  behind  the 
bed — watched  you  in  your  sleep — con 
cealed  herself  in  this  chair  —  saw  you 
rise — leaped  on  your  shoulders  gibber 
ing  as  insane  persons  do,  and,  when  you 
shrieked  and  fell,  escaped  from  the  apart 
ment." 

Honoria  drew  a  long  breath,  and  for 
some  moments  remained  silent ;  at  last 
she  murmured : 

"  How  do  you  know  this,  doctor?  " 

"From  Edmund  Innis,  who  is  able 
to  communicate  by  signs  with  the  girl, 
and  extracted  the  confession  from  her." 

Honoria  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands.  She  was  quietly  weeping. 

"It  was  cruel  in  Meta,"  she  mur 
mured.  "I  thought  she  loved  me  too 
much  to — " 

"To  love  young  Master  Edmund 
more?"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  smile. 
"  No,  Honoria ;  that  passion  exceeds  in 
force  all  others — is  as  strong  in  Meta 
as  in  Edmund  Innis,  only  he  loves 
you.''1 

Honoria's  face  was  covered  with 
blushes,  but  a  happy'smile  shone  through 
her  tears. 

"  At  last !  "  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  rising. 
"  You  are  now  well,  my  dear  Honoria ! 
let  me  call  you  dear.  I  call  few  so! 
You  are  well  in  body  and  mind,  in  heart 
as  in  brain.  God  watch  over  you,  my 
child,  and  guard  you  from  all  danger, 
and  give  you  this  honest  gentleman, 
Edmund  Innis,  to  be  your  faithful  hus 
band  !  That  is  rny  prayer,  Honoria,  the 
prayer  of  the  old  dried-up  physician  who 
loved  once  a  human  being — your  mother. 
Farewell  now,  Honoria!  " 

And,  stooping,  the  eccentric  person 
age  touched  the  girl's  brow  with  his 
lips,  left  the  apartment,  and  on  the  same 


evening  set   out   on  his  return  to   the 
capital. 

His  patient  was  cured. 


XXVII. 

BEFOKE    THE    ASSEMBLY. 

SINCE  the  scenes  which  we  have  just 
described  more  than  three  months  had 
passed.  It  was  the  depth  of  winter,  and 
the  city  of  Williamsburg,  the  capital  of 
Virginia,  residence  of  the  viceroy,  and 
centre  of  fashion  for  the  time,  was  in  all 
its  glory. 

Before  a  mirror,  in  an  upper  apart 
ment  of  a  house  near  the  governor's 
"  palace,"  as  it  was  called,  Honoria  was 
standing  one  evening,  busily  arranging,  in 
multitudinous  braids  and  plaits,  the  dark 
locks  of  Meta,  who  half  reclined,  with  a 
delighted  expression  of  countenance,  in 
a  velvet  arm-chair,  gazing  at  herself  in 
the  low-swung  mirror. 

Honoria,  who  stood  behind  the  dark 
little  beauty  at  her  work,  was  clad  in  her 
dressing-gown ;  her  hair  was  in  disor 
dered  curls  upon  her  shoulders,  and  her 
toilet  was  yet  to  be  made.  At  a  window 
near  stood  her  sister  Lou,  in  magnificent 
ball-costume — all  lace,  satin,  jewels,  and 
powder — erect,  superb,  turning  her  head 
from  moment  to  moment  to  gaze  at  the 
pair  in  front  of  the  mirror,  and  beating 
an  impatient  tattoo  upon  the  window- 
pane. 

The  last  words  of  Dr.  Vandyke  to 
Lady  Brand,  on  leaving  "  Rivannn,"  af 
ter  Honoria's  convalescence,  had  been  : 

"  Madam,  if  you  wish  your  daughter 
to  regain  her  roses  and  lose  the  mortal 
pallor  you  see  in  her  cheeks,  take  her 
away  from  Rivanna.  Give  her  gayety, 
change  of  scene,  distraction  of  some 
kind :  what  she  now  requires  is  forget- 
fulness." 

Lady  Brand  had  repeated  these  words 
to  her  husband,  and  that  gentleman  had 
responded — chin  elevated,  hand  passing 


BEFORE   THE   ASSEMBLY. 


61 


slowly  and  with  dignity  between  his  col 
lar  and  his  neck : 

"  Hum !  —  ha !  —  gayety,  distraction, 
change  of  scene?  Well,  madam,  that 
comports  with  my  own  views.  I  have 
affairs  of  some  importance  to  transact  at 
Williamsburg,  and  design  going  thither. 
You  and  the  young  ladies  may  accom 
pany  me,  and  make  a  protracted  stay  if 
you  desire  to  do  so." 

The  affairs  of  importance  were  imagi 
nary.  Colonel  Brand  had  long  promised 
himself  the  luxury  of  exhibiting  the 
beauty  of  his  daughters  in  the  viceregal 
capital ;  and,  greatly  alarmed  by  the 
now  unmistakable  attachment  between 
Innis  and  Honoria,  he  had  already  de 
termined  to  remove  the  young  lady  to 
new  scenes,  and,  if  possible,  effect  a 
match  between  her  and  some  wealthy 
young  scion  of  the  seaboard.  Dr.  Van 
dyke's  advice,  therefore,  coincided  with 
his  own  views.  No  time  was  lost  in 
making  arrangements  for  spending  the 
winter  with  his  family  in  Williamsburg, 
whither  Lady  Brand  decided  to  go.  A 
house  was  procured  and  furnished ;  every 
article  of  comfort  and  luxury  sent  down  ; 
and,  in  due  time,  the  old,  lumbering 
chariot,  drawn  by  its  four  horses,  landed 
the  colonel  and  his  family  at  their  "  town 
mansion  "  in  the  capital. 

On  the  evening  when  we  present  the 
young  ladies  to  the  reader  they  were 
preparing  for  their  first  formal  ball  or 
"  assembly  " — to  take  place  at  the  palace 
of  his  excellency.  Or,  rather,  Miss  Lou 
Brand  had  made  her  preparations,  while 
Honoria,  busy  with  Meta,  had  not  begun 
her  own. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Honoria,  make 
haste  and  have  done  with  Meta !  "  ex 
claimed  Miss  Lou  Brand,  at  last,  out  of 
all  patience.  u  The  chariot  will  be  at 
the  door  in  half  an  hour,  and  you'll  not 
be  dressed.'1 

"That  is  time  enough,  sister,"  said 
Honoria,  with  her  habitual  smile,  full  of 
sweetness,  and  a  little  sadness. 


"  Time  enough  !  Who  ever  heard  of 
a  young  lady  dressing  for  a  ball  in  thirty 
minutes?  Your  hair  alone  will  take  an 
hour !  " 

"  If  I  choose  to  spend  an  hour  arrang 
ing  it,  sister  ;  but  I  shall  not." 

"  But,  begin— begin  !  " 

"  Meta's  hair  is  nearly  done." 

"  Why  in  the  world  did  you  not  leave 
it  to  one  of  the  maids  ?  " 

"  Meta  wished  me  to  arrange  it,  sis 
ter,  and  you  know  how  obstinate  the 
poor  child  is  when  she  takes  a  fancy." 

"  Yes,  I  do — hateful  little  creature  !  " 
said  Miss  Lou  Brand,  with  emphasis. 

"  We  must  make  allowance  for  her 
infirmity,  sister.  She  is  very  unfortunate, 
and  has  few  pleasures.  Something — I 
know  not  what — has  made  her  attach 
great  importance  to  this  ball — to  her  ap 
pearance — " 

"  Something  !  "  exclaimed  the  elder 
beauty,  with  a  satirical  but  not  ill-na 
tured  laugh ;  Lou  Brand  was  incapable 
of  ill-nature.  "  '  Something ! '  you  know 
very  well  what  that  something  is :  Ed 
mund  Innis  will  be  there,  and  Meta  is — 
in  love  with  his  lordship,  Mr.  Wythe's 
worshipful  law-student !  " 

Honoria  blushed,  and  Meta,  as  though 
she  knew  when  Innis's  name  was  pro 
nounced,  by  the  very  movement  of  any 
one's  lips  in  uttering  his  name,  riveted 
her  eyes  with  a  dark  and  angry  expres 
sion  upon  the  elder  young  lady,  who 
thereupon  burst  into  a  ringing  laugh. 

"  The  world  is  full  of  finesse,  secret 
motives,  and  things  sans  Us  cartes  !  "  she 
cried.  "  Women,  even  girls  like  Meta, 
are  eternally  scheming!  But,  come, 
come,  Honora  ! — I  won't  tell  you  that  you 
too  are  blushing — ha,  ha ! — but  I  do  tell 
you  that,  unless  you  commence  your  toi 
let,  you'll  not  be  at  the  ball." 

"  There,  there,  sister,  I've  done,"  said 
Honoria,  hurriedly.  "At  least,  Meta, 
poor  thing,  is  pleased  ;  and,  it  is  so  good 
to  make  people  happy,  sister!  I'll  get 
ready  in  a  moment." 


62 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


And  this  remarkable  young  lady,  who 
had  forgotten  her  own  hair,  to  fix  a  poor 
girl's,  began  energetically  dressing. 

"  No !  "  exclaimed  Lou  Brand,  reso 
lutely,  "you  shan't  throw  your  things 
on  in  that  way,  Honoria !  If  you  don't 
know  it,  I'll  tell  you,  that  you  are  going  to 
.be  the  belle  of  the  assembly — the  centre 
of  all  eyes ;  and  I  don't  intend  to  have 
those  hateful  old  dowagers  in  turbans, 
ranged,  like  sunflowers  and  hollyhocks 
gone  to  seed,  along  the  wall,  nodding 
and  tittering  behind  their  fans,  and  chat 
tering  to  each  other,  and  whispering: 
'  Just  see  Miss  Honoria  Brand,  the  beau 
ty  !  Did  you  ever  see  so  frightful  a  toi 
let  ? '  No  !  " 

And,  sweeping  toward  Honoria,  the 
energetic  beauty  threw  down  her  pearl 
fan,  took  possession  of  her  sister,  and 
busily  began  dressing  her  hair,  which, 
under  the  plastic  fingers,  soon  rose  in  an 
exquisite  tower  of  curls,  brilliant,  pow 
dered,  and  interwoven  with  pearls. 

"  Now  your  hair  is  something  like ! 
Where  is  your  white  satin  ?  " 

To  this  abrupt  question  Honoria  re 
plied,  rather  timidly  : 

"  I  thought  of  wearing  my  blue  silk, 
sister." 

"  Your  blue  silk  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Did  anybody  ever  hear  of  such  an 
idea  ?  You  are  utterly  absurd,  Honoria  I 
— at  the  governor's  assembly  !  " 

"  That  does  not  impress  me  greatly  ; 
and  you  know  I  am  not  a  bride,  sister." 

"You  never  will  be,  either,  at  this 
rate,  madam  !  Your  blue  silk  I  You  pos 
itively  shall  not !  " 

"  Well,  have  it  your  way,  sister  :  the 
white  satin  let  it  be." 

A  maid  quickly  laid  out  the  gorgeous 
costume  upon  a  bed ;  the  young  lady's 
toilet  was  finished,  and  her  sister,  re 
treating  a  step,  looked  at  her,  with  head 
sidewise,  admiringly.  Then  she  rushed 
at  her,  rearranged  a  curl,  retied  a  bow 
of  ribbon,  slightly  drew  a  fold  of  lace 


across  one  of  the  snowy  shoulders,  and 
exclaimed : 

"  You  really  are  a  beauty,  Honoria ; 
and  will  have  everybody  looking  at  yon  !  " 

Honoria  blushed  and  smiled.  What 
woman  could  listen  to  such  an  observa 
tion  coldly  ?  She  gazed  at  herself  in  the 
glass,  and  then,  as  the  thought  came  to 
her  "  He  will  see  me,"  her  cheeks  grew 
crimson.  In  a  corner  of  the  chamber, 
Meta,  with  her  strange,  crouching  atti 
tude,  was  watching  her.  Miss  Lou 
Brand,  who  seemed  to  understand  every 
thing  and  everybody,  turned  and  looked 
at  her,  and  quickly  ran  to  her,  and  seized 
her  arm. 

"  Go  on,  you  little  wretch,  and  get 
into  the  coach — I  hear  it  at  the  door  !  " 
she  exclaimed. 

With  which,  Miss  Lou  Brand  hustled 
Meta  out  of  the  room,  and  shut  the 
door. 

"  Now  I  feel  more  at  my  ease  !  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  That  hateful  creature  was 
standing  there,  glowering  at  you,  dear, 
and  thinking  that  Edmund  Innis  would 
see  her,  too !  What  a  goose !  He  has 
no  eyes  for  any  one  but  you !  And  now 
stop  blushing,  and  come  on.  Your  blue 
silk?  Absurd!  The  white  satin!  And 
you  shall  marry  him,  and  be  happy,  and 
wear  white  as  a  bride  yet,  dear  ! — and  I 
mean  to  dance  at  your  wedding — and  let 
myself  be  kissed,  too,  by — my  brother 
Edmund !  " 


XXVIII. 

THE    ASSEMBLY. 

ALL  Williamsburg  was  in  commotion. 
Through  the  frosty  air  of  the  clear  win 
ter  night  flashed  chariots  drawn  by  four- 
in-hands  ;  gallant  young  beaux  mounted 
upon  prancing  thorough-breds  followed, 
and  the  capital  was  all  joy,  merriment, 
and  uproar. 

Colonel  Brand  had  selected  the  most 
opportune  season  for  his  visit  to  the  city, 
and  on  this  night  the  carnival  culmi- 


THE   ASSEMBLY. 


63 


nated.  Hitherto  the  days  had  been  full 
of  pleasure  and  enjoyment ;  balls,  races, 
tea  -  driiikings,  riding  -  excursions,  and 
card-parties,  had  been  the  order  of  the 
day ;  but  these  were  all  thrown  in  the 
shade  by  the  coming  "  assembly." 

Colonel  Brand's  chariot  stopped  be 
fore  the  great  gate  of  the  governor's 
palace,  in  front  of  which  a  crowd  of 
motley  character  had  assembled  to  look 
at  the  richly-dressed  beauties,  as  they 
descended  from  their  vehicles;  and  up 
the  broad  walk,  edged  with  Scottish  lin 
dens,  from  which  were  suspended  colored 
lanterns  to  light  the  guests,  the  colonel 
and  his  family  advanced,  and  entered  the 
broad  door. 

In  the  large  apartment,  adorned  with 
full-length  portraits  of  the  kjng  and 
queeii,  the  crowd  was  already  great,  and 
it  would  be  difficult  to  convey  an  idea 
of  the  brilliance  of  the  spectacle.  Silk, 
velvet,  lace,  and  jewels,  caught  and  threw 
back  in  dazzling  splendor  the  light  of 
the  great  chandeliers  overhead,  and  the 
stately  gentlemen  and  smiling  beauties 
of  an  epoch  famed  for  such,  were  min 
gled  in  one  great  crowd,  rich-colored  as 
the  dream  of  some  grand  painter.  So 
norous  music  rang ;  the  buzz  of  conver 
sation  mingled  with  it;  and  in  the  centre 
of  the  apartment  his  smiling  excellency 
the  royal  governor  received  and  bowed 
low  to  his  guests  with  his  well-known 
urbanity  and  elegance. 

lie  was  leaning  on  the  arm  of  his 
confidential  secretary,  Lord  Ruthven, 
who,  pale,  clad  in  a  rich  but  sombre  cos 
tume,  and  with  his  black  hair  only  slight 
ly  powdered,  surveyed  the  company 
with  courteous  but  stately  attention. 
Despite  obvious  efforts,  however,  Ruth 
ven  scarcely  smiled  ;  something  plainly 
bore  heavily  on  this  man's  heart.  In 
fact,  the  melancholy  young  nobleman 
had  never  ceased  to  be  haunted  by  his 
possessing  thought,  his  mysterious  dread. 
Remaining  in  Virginia  only  at  the  ex 
press  and  repeated  request  of  the  gov 


ernor,  he  had  never  lost  the  apprehen 
sion  which  rendered  his  life  miserable; 
and,  on  this  evening,  resembled,  in  his 
black  costume,  with  his  dark  eyes  set 
in  his  pale  face,  a  veritable  "death's 
head  at  the  feast." 

Suddenly  the  governor  felt  a  convul 
sive  pressure  upon  his  arm ;  and  Lord 
Ruthven,  who  had  grown  as  pale  as  a 
corpse,  whispered  in  a  low  voice  in  his 
ear: 

"Who  is  she,  my  lord?" 

The  governor  turned  and  looked  at 
the  speaker.  His  eyes  were  distended, 
and  his  finger  indicated  a  young  lady 
who  had  just  entered. 

"What  ails  you,  Ruthven?"  the 
governor  said,  in  great  astonishment. 

"Who  is  she?"  repeated  Ruthven, 
in  the  same  tone. 

The  governor  followed  the  direction 
of  the  trembling  finger,  and  said  : 

"  The  young  lady  in  white  satin,  with 
pearls  in  her  hair?  " 

"Yes,  my  lord." 

"Miss  Brand — the  daughter  of  my 
friend  Colonel  Brand.  Your  solitary 
way  of  living  alone  accounts  for  your 
ignorance,  my  dear  Ruthven." 

"  Brand  !  Brand !  "  murmured  Ruth- 
ven,  in  a  voice  almost  inaudible ;  "  my 
father  had  a  friend — a  Colonel  Brand." 

"  'Tis  the  same ;  and  Miss  Brand  is  a 
beauty,  is  she  not?  Nay,  there  are  two 
beauties  in  the  family.  See!  that  toll 
damsel  is  also  a  daughter  of  the  colonel. 
They  are  approaching.  Here  they  are. 
Let  me  present  you." 

"No!  no!"  exclaimed  the  young 
nobleman,  almost  fiercely,  "  not  for  the 
universe  —  never! — that  is — I  mean  — 
pardon  me,  my  lord,  I  am  not  well  to 
night — and — another  time — " 

The  governor  had  not  time  to  think 
of  these  singular  words,  or  even  to  look 
at  the  speaker.  Colonel  Brand  was 
within  a  few  feet  of  him,  accompanied 
by  the  Indies  of  his  family,  and  it  was 
utterly  impossible  for  Ruthven  to  retire 


64 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


without  obvious  and  gross  discourtesy. 
With  one  hand,  the  governor,  in  fact, 
detained  him,  the  other  hand  grasped 
Colonel  Brand's,  and  the  host  cordially 
welcomed  his  guest,  and  was  presented 
to  the  ladies. 

Ruthven  was  on  the  point  of  tearing 
himself  away ;  his  agitation  was  fright 
ful,  and  he  seemed  to  have  lost  all  self- 
control.  In  the  midst,  however,  of  the 
sort  of  vertigo  which  had  seized  upon 
him,  lie  heard  the  governor  say: 

"  Miss  Brand,  may  I  have  the  honor 
of  presenting  my  friend  Lord  Ruth 
ven  ? " 

The  young  nobleman  bowed  low, 
raised  his  hand  to  his  breast,  as  though  a 
sudden  pain  assailed  him,  uttered  some 
hurried  words,  and,  in  spite  of  every  ef 
fort  of  the  governor  to  detain  him,  retired 
from  the  spot,  and  sought  to  leave  the 
apartment.  This,  however,  was  no 
easy  task.  The  crowd  had  become  so 
dense  that  to  make  way  through  it  was 
almost  impossible.  He  found  the  way 
barred  on  every  hand,  could  only  move 
to  and  fro,  borne  like  a  leaf  on  the  waves 
of  silk  and  velvet,  and  a  sudden  move 
ment  of  the  mass  almost  made  him  lose 
his  balance.  In  regaining  it,  he  placed 
his  foot  on  a  young  lady's  train ;  the 
young  lady  moved  at  the  same  instant, 
and  the  consequence  was  that  the  satin 
train  was  rent  nearly  in  twain. 

The  instincts  of  the  gentleman 
triumphed  over  the  cruel  agony  of  the 
individual,  and  Lord  Ruthven,  bowing 
low,  exclaimed : 

"  A  thousand  pardons,  madam,  for 
my  awkwardness !  " 

"It  is  nothing,  sir! — do  not  annoy 
yourself — the  crowd  is  so  great — " 

And  the  beautiful  eyes  of  Honoria 
were  fixed  upon  Lorcl  Ruthven's  face — a 
smile  upon  the  bright  lips.  As  she 
looked  at  him,  his  own  sombre  glance 
met  the  young  lady's,  and  he  shuddered. 

Honoria  had  gathered  up  the  torn 
skirt,  thrown  it  over  her  snowy  arm, 


and  now  repeated,  in  her  frank  and  sim 
ple  voice  : 

"  It  is  impossible  to  avoid  these  ac 
cidents,  I  assure  you,  my  lord,  in  such 
crowded  rooms,  and  this  will  not  incon 
venience  me  at  all." 

"  But — in  dancing — there  is  a  minu 
et—" 

The  words  were  forced  from  the  lips 
by  a  tremendous  effort.  Honoria  did 
not  seem  to  observe  the  fact ;  her  little 
red-heeled  slipper  was  beating  time  de 
lightedly  to  the  stately  music. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  dance,  I  assure  you,  in 
spite  of  it." 

The  die  was  cast.  It  was  a  fatal, 
necessity,  in  accordance  with  the  eti 
quette  of  the  time,  that  Lord  Ruthven 
should  solicit  the  young  lady's  hand  for 
the  minuet.  He  did  so  in  a  voice  which 
those  who  knew  him  would  have  scarce 
recognized  as  his  own.  Honoria  made 
him  a  little  courtesy  of  delighted  assent, 
and  in  a  moment  they  were  dancing  to 
gether  in  the  stately  menuet  de  la  cour. 
It  was  fortunate  that  nearly  all  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  the  little  "Brand  beauty,"  as 
Honoria  began  to  be  called  ;  upon  her  fair 
face  full  of  happy  smiles  bent  toward  her 
bosom  in  the  low  courtesy — the  slender 
figure  moving  with  exquisite  grace — the 
beautiful  eyes,  dancing  with  youthful 
joy  beneath  the  piled-up  curls,  the  pow 
der,  and  the  interwoven  pearls.  The 
figure  of  the  girl  was  sunshine  incarnate 
— the  figure  of  Ruthven  in  his  dark 
dress,  shadow.  Innis,  looking  at  them 
from  a  corner  of  the  apartment — for  he 
had  returned  to  Williamsburg  even  after 
Colonel  Brand's  arrival,  and  was  one  of 
the  guests  on  this  night — Innis,  gazing 
at  them,  not  without  some  trouble  in  his 
frank  face,  felt  a  sort  of  shudder,  in 
presence  of  the  funereal  partner  of  his 
idol. 

The  stately  minuet  bowed  itself 
through  its  splendid  evolutions,  and  came 
to  an  end.  Lord  Ruthven  stopped  sud 
denly  ;  remained  as  motionless  as  a  fig- 


THE  ASSEMBLY. 


05 


lire  of  black  marble  for  an  instant,  then, 
with  a  visible  tremor  of  his  nerves,  of 
fered  Honoria  his  arm,  and  was  lost 
again  in  the  crowd. 

"  The  music  of  his  excellency  is  ad 
mirable — you  are  fond  of  dancing — Miss 
Brand?" 

His  voice  had  the  same  forced  tones 
— tones  almost  convulsive. 

"Very  fond,  my  lord,"  said  Honoria, 
wondering  at  the  evident  agitation  of 
her  companion. 

"  And  the  gavotte — the  reel — the  lat 
ter,  I  think,  is  our  own  Scottish  reel  ?  " 

"  We  call  it  the  Virginia  reel  already, 
and  it  is  even  a  greater  favorite  than  the 
minuet." 

"  It  is  natural  that  the  ladies  of  Vir 
ginia  then  should  prefer  their  own  dance, 
Miss  Brand.  And  you  are  a  native  of 
Virginia,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  my  lord." 

"  You  have  never  visited  England — 
Scotland— I  mean  the  Old  World?  " 

He  looked  at  her  with  singular  in 
tensity  as  he  spoke,  and  seemed  to  await 
her  reply  with  very  extraordinary  agita 
tion. 

"  I  have  never  been  out  of  Virginia 
in  my  life,  sir,"  said  Honoria,  and,  laugh 
ing  with  the  frankness  and  simplicity 
which  made  her  so  charming,  she  added  : 

"I  should  think  you  might  know  so, 
my  lord,  by  my  provincial  air  and  ap 
pearance." 

"  By  no  means — Miss  Brand  is  wholly 
mistaken.  Your  father,  however,  has  vis 
ited  the  Old  World — was  a  friend,  I  think, 
of  my  own  father,  the  late  Lord  Ruth- 
ven.  Then  we  two  should  be  friends." 

Why  he  uttered  the  words  he  could 
never  understand.  He  did  not  mean 
them,  for  Ruthven  had  registered  a  sol 
emn  oath  to  leave  the  city  of  Williams- 
burg  on  the  very  next  day. 

The  interview  lasted  but  a  few  mo 
ments  longer.  Suddenly  Honoria  said, 
with  a  little  flutter  in  her  voice,  to  some 
one: 


"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  !  " 

And,  raising  his  eyes,  Ruthven  saw. 
within  three  paces  of  him,  Edmund  In- 
nis. 

The  young  man,  who  had  bowed  low 
over  the  little  hand  which  Honoria  held 
out  to  him,  made  a  bow  also  to  Lord 
Ruthven. 

"I  am  pleased  to  find  that  your  lord 
ship  has  recovered,"  he  said. 

Innis  held  the  hand  of  Ilonoria  still, 
as  he  spoke;  and  Ruthven  gazed  with 
an  indescribable  expression  upon  tlib 
graceful  figures  of  the  youth  and  maiden, 
as  they  were  grouped  thus  under  the  brill 
iant  chandelier. 

"  Yes — many  thanks,  sir — yes,  T  have, 
I  believe,  recovered,  and— you  linve  re 
turned  to  the  capital,  Mr.  Innis  ?  " 

"  To  prosecute  my  studies,  my  lord. 
I  design  becoming  a  counsellor  one  of 
these  days." 

"May  your  lot  be  happy,  sir,"  Ruth 
ven  said,  "though  I  shall  not  have  the 
opportunity  to  witness  your  forensic 
triumphs.  I  shall  return  on  the  next 
vessel  to  Europe." 

"  Indeed,  my  lord  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  under  the  necessity  of  so 
doing." 

Innis  had  offered  Honoria  his  ann, 
Lord  Ruthven  having  released  the  young 
lady. 

"Your  lordship  will  not  set  out  for 
Europe,  I  hope,"  said  Honoria,  smiling, 
"without  culling  to  see  us — my  father 
will  be  happy,  I  am  sure,  to  see  the  son 
of  his  friend  the  late  Lord  Ruthven.1' 

The  young  nobleman  bowed  low. 
Before  he  was  aware  of  the  words  which 
he  was  uttering,  he  said  : 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  pay  my 
respects  to  Colonel  Brand  and  yourself, 
Miss  Brand." 

With  a  second  bow  he  was  lost  in 
the  crowd,  and  ten  minutes  afterward 
he  had  left  the  ballroom,  and  gained  his 
lodgings. 


66 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


XXIX. 

LINKS    OF   THE    CHAIN. 

FERGUS  was  in  the  chamber,  silent, 
erect,  and  respectful.  His  master  threw 
himself  into  a  chair,  and  said,  in  a  hoarse 
voice : 

"Fergus,  I  have  seen  the  woman!  " 

"The  woman,  my  lord?"  was  the 
cool  reply,  "  and  what  is  she  like  ?  " 

"  Like  ? — Good  Heavens ! — beautiful, 
very  beautiful,  and  like  —  like — the 
spectre !  " 

For  some  moments  a  deep  silence 
reigned  in  the  apartment.  Lord  Ruth- 
ven  then  said,  in  the  same  low,  hoarse 
voice : 

"  We  go  to-morrow  !  " 

"To  Europe,  my  lord?" 

"  Yes !  " 

"  Good,  my  lord." 

"  There  is  a  vessel  ?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"Heaven  grant  it!  " 

"  And  this  time  your  lordship  is  de 
termined  really  to  go?  " 

"  Resolutely  determined  !  " 

Fergus  made  a  movement  of  his  head, 
and  began  folding  the  articles  of  his 
master's  wardrobe  and  laying  them  care 
fully  in  a  huge  trunk,  in  one  corner  of 
the  apartment. 

For  some  moments  Lord  Ruthven 
remained  perfectly  silent,  his  breast 
heaving. 

"  I  tried  to  avoid  her — to  avoid  mak 
ing  her  acquaintance !  "  he  muttered, 
"  but  Fate  forced  it  upon  me !  " 

"Eh?"  grunted  Fergus,  dryly,  con 
tinuing  to  pack  the  trunk. 

"  It  happened  as  before  in  the  case 
of — the  man." 

"Your  lordship  means  young  Mr. 
Innis  ?  " 

u  Yes.  That  was  what  is  called  an 
accident.  This,  too,  was — an  accident." 

"Do  you  believe  in  accidents,  my 
lord  ?  " 


"  Nor  I.     There  are  none." 

"None,  and  yet  to  think  that,  despite 
every  effort,  I  am  thrown  with — these 
people  !  Does  it  not  seem  strange?  " 

"  Every  thing  is  strange  in  this  world, 
my  lord.  But  I  am  glad  we  are  going." 

*'  Yes,  yes,  we  will  go !  Nothing 
shall  withhold  me.  Cursed  Fate  that 
drives  me  !  Oh,  why,  Fergus,  am  I  not 
a  poor  common  mortal  like  the  rest  of 
my  kind  ?  Why  am  I  the  exception,  the 
anomaly,  the  one  being  denied  all  happi 
ness  ? " 

"Your  lordship  speaks  mysteriously. 
You  would  say — " 

Lord  Ruthven  was  silent  again,  and 
slowly  his  pale  face  flushed. 

"I  mean,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
"  that  were  I  not  Ruthven,  and  therefore 
accursed,  I  might  —  possibly  —  who 
knows? — find  some  solace,  some  happi 
ness,  in — " 

He  stopped,  and  knit  his  brows.  His 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  floor.  His  face 
filled  with  blushes. 

"  She  is  very  beautiful !  "  he  said,  as 
though  to  himself. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  ex 
pression  of  Fergus,  as  he  listened  to  this 
unmistakable  avowal.  The  old  face 
assumed  an  air  of  scorn,  of  pity,  of  ap 
prehension,  of  affection,  wonderful  to 
see.  He  stopped  packing  the  trunk,  and, 
looking  at  his  master  intently,  said : 

"  Is  your  lordship  really  going  to 
morrow  ?  If  not,  'twill  be  useless  to 
continue  these  preparations." 

"Going?  Certainly  I  am  going!" 
exclaimed  Lord  Ruthven,  almost  angrily ; 
"what  made  you  dream  that  I  was  not 
really  going?  " 

"  I  did  not  dream  it,  I  thought  it;  and 
what  made  me  think  it  was — experi 
ence  !  "  said  Fergus,  coolly. 

"Experience  !  what  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean,  my  lord,  that  you  said  you 
were  going  before — when  you  first  saw 
the  man— and.  you  did  not  go  !  " 

"  You  know  why  I  did  not  go — be- 


LINKS   OF   THE   CHAIN. 


67 


cause  I  could  not,  and  the  man  went 
away !  And  I  will  add  that  it  is  dis 
agreeable  to  me  to  be  thus  catechised !  " 

An  angry  scowl  accompanied  the 
words.  Fergus  stopped  suddenly,  and 
turned  to  his  master  with  a  strange  mix 
ture  of  offence  and  mortification  upon 
his  old  weather-beaten  face. 

Kuthven  for  a  moment  said  nothing. 
His  heavy  breathing  was  audible  in  the 
silence.  Suddenly  he  rose,  went  to 
Fergus,  and  seized  his  hand  in  his  own — 

"Forgive  me,  Fergus — my  poor,  good 
Fergus !  poor,  since  you  have  so  unhappy, 
so  wayward  and  unjust  a  master!  For 
give  me,  old  friend— I  am  mad,  I  think, 
to  wound  thus  the  only  heart  on  earth 
that  beats  true  to  me !  But  I  have  been 
unnerved  to-night — I  scarce  know  what 
I  say.  That  face!  that  smile! — the  lips, 
the  hair,  all — they  were  the  same,  the 
very  same,  Fergus  !  There  was  no  room 
for  doubt — I  have  seen  her,  heard  her — 
'tis  she !  And  listen,  Fergus!  I  was 
fool  enough  to  promise  to  call  and  pay 
her  my  respects.  Do  not  sneer  at  your 
poor  master !  I  was  weak,  but  I  will  be 
strong.  That  promise  binds  me — I  will 
see  her  for  ten  minutes,  but  first  my  pas 
sage  will  be  taken  to  Europe — then  I  will 
go — I  will  go — I  will  leave  this  cursed 
soil,  and,  with  the  blessing  of  Heaven, 
will  set  my  foot  upon  it  no  more!  " 

"  Heaven  grant  that  your  lordship 
may  keep  your  vow  !  " 

"  Oh,  be  not  uneasy;  I  will  keep  it." 

Fergus  inclined  his  head. 

"Your  lordship  knows  one  thing — 
that,  whether  in  Europe  or  Virginia,  he 
possesses  the  heart  of  Fergus,  who  will 
live  or  die  with  him !  " 

On  the  next  morning,  Fergus  had 
made  all  his  arrangements:  packed  all 
the  trunks,  paid  all  his  master's  ac 
counts,  and  went  to  engage  their  pas 
sage  in  a  vessel  to  sail  that  very  night 
for  England. 

A  few  moments  before,  his  master 


had  gone  to  pay  his  first  and  last  visit  to 
Colonel  Brand  and  his  family. 

In  three  or  four  hours  Fergus  came 
back.  The  vessel  would  not  sail  for  four 
days.  His  master  had  not  returned  ;  he 
only  reentered  his  lodgings  toward  mid 
night,  having  dined  and  spent  the  even 
ing  with  Colonel  Brand,  who  was  great 
ly  interested  in  the  news  from  Scotland. 

Fergus  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
said  nothing.  When  he  announced  the 
delay  in  the  vessel's  sailing,  Ruthven  said, 
simply,  in  an  absent  way : 

"  'Tis  well,  Fergus." 

"  I  thought  to  hear  '  Tis  ill !  '  "  mut 
tered  the  old  servant ;  "  and  now,  '  'Tis 
well !  '  " 

Colonel  Brand  had  requested  Ruthvcii 
to  call,  before  his  departure,  and  receive 
some  letters  he  designed  writing  to 
friends  in  Scotland.  The  young  noble 
man  accordingly  did  so — on  the  very 
next  day — and,  as  before,  remained  until 
late  in  the  evening,  conversing  this  time 
almost  exclusively  with  Honoriu.  AYhi'ii 
he  returned  homeward,  he  might  have 
been  heard  muttering : 

"  And,  if  Fergus  was  right  in  his  in 
credulity! — if  I  do  not  go! — 'twould  be 
frightful ! — fearful !  Does  Fate  drag  me  ? 
Oh,  but  I  will  go ! — I  will  go  ! — I  swear 
it!'r 

As  Colonel  Brand's  letters  were  not 
written,  it  was  necessary  that  Lord  Ruth- 
ven  should  repeat  his  visit.  He  went 
thither  on  the  next  day — on  the  next — 
and,  to  come  to  the  result,  announced 
finally  to  Fergus,  in  a  tone  of  voice  im 
possible  to  convey  to  the  reader,  that  he 
had  changed  his  resolution:  he  would 
not  sail  for  Europe. 

Fergus  simply  bowed  his  head,  sup 
pressing  the  groan  which  rose  to  his  lips 
until  his  master  left  the  room.  Then  he 
uttered  a  species  of  moan,  and  muttered: 

"  Have  mercy  upon  us,  O  Lord  !  but 
may  I  live  and  die  with  my  poor  mas 
ter  !  " 

A  month  passed.     Lord  Ruthven  and 


68 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


Fergus  had  never  again  alluded  to  the 
projected  journey  to  Europe.  The  no 
bleman  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  time 
in  his  chamber,  motionless,  in  a  sort  of 
trance ;  only,  from  time  to  time,  he 
looked,  in  a  singular  manner,  over  his 
shoulder,  as  though  some  frightful  object 
haunted  him.  His  private  talks  with 
Fergus  had  abruptly  ceased.  At  times 
his  eyes  would  meet  those  of  the  old  ser 
vant,  and  a  glance,  full  of  gloomy  mean 
ing,  would  be  exchanged  between  them. 
But  the  pale  lips  did  not  open.  The  old 
clansman  only  nodded,  uttering  deep 
sighs,  intent  upon  one  thing  only  now — 
implicit  obedience  to  his  chief. 

When  a  month  had  passed  in  this 
manner,  Lord  Ruthven,  who  had  grown, 
if  possible,  paler  and  more  haggard  than 
before,  said  one  morning  to  the  old  ser 
vant : 

"  Fergus,  order  my  coach." 

Fergus  bowed,  and  went  to  obey. 

"  It  has  come  at  last !  "  he  muttered. 
"  The  bonny  bridegroom  is  going  to  his 
bridal!" 


XXX. 

THE   TWO    RIVALS. 

A  MONTH  ! — a  moment,  an  age ;  an 
atom  of  time,  an  eternity !  A  month — 
in  which  the  idler  dawdles  through  the 
dull  and  colorless  days,  each  flying, 
eventless,  in  the  wake  of  each;  in 
which,  too,  the  good  ship  encircles  one- 
half  of  the  world !  A  month — in  which 
existences  fill  with  sunshine,  or  are  sunk 
in  shadow ;  in  which  hearts  break,  and 
griefs  are  assuaged ;  in  which  all  things 
come  to  us,  or  all  things  leave  us,  mak 
ing  us  happy  or  miserable,  as  the  kind 
Father  of  all  decrees!  Fatal  days  and 
hours,  in  which  the  tide  ebbs  and  flows! 
I  know  nothing  more  remorseless,  more 
paralyzing  to  the  reason,  than  this  cer 
tainty  of  the  uncertain — this  ignorance 
of  what  a  day  may  bring  forth  ! 

This    month,    over   which  we    have 


glided,  brought  Lord  Ruthven  as  a  suit 
or  to  the  feet  of  Honoria  Brand.  In 
spite  of  every  effort  which  the  young 
nobleman  made  to  tear  himself  away 
from  her,  he  gravitated  ever  nearer, 
more  and  more  surely ;  one  by  one  his 
fears  were  dissipated,  his  resolutions  un 
dermined  and  overthrown.  He  had 
fallen  passionately  in  love  with  the  little 
"  Brand  beauty ;  "  and  on  this  morning 
was  bent  upon  formally  asking  her  hand 
of  her  father. 

Honoria  and  Innis  had  witnessed  this 
misfortune  with  inexpressible  agony. 
So  far  from  becoming  indifferent  to  Ed 
mund,  in  consequence  of  the  thousand 
gayeties  and  distractions  which  sur 
rounded  her,  Honoria  had  felt  her  affec 
tion  for  the  youth  increase  with  every 
passing  hour.  With  natures  like  that  of 
this  young  girl,  faith  and  constancy  are 
instincts — trial  only  strengthens  them ; 
use  brightens  and  tempers  the  metal,  as 
fire  tests  gold.  To  have  Lord  Ruthven, 
therefore,  appear  as  a  suitor,  was  an  in 
expressible  pain  to  her — to  Innis  it  was 
almost  paralysis.  And,  worst  of  all,  he 
could  do  nothing.  What  could  he  do? 
For  the  youth,  almost  penniless,  to  as 
pire  to  the  hand  of  the  wealthy  and 
beautiful  young  heiress,  was,  of  itself, 
sufficiently  presumptuous  ;  but,  to  go 
to  Colonel  Brand  and  say :  "  I  love 
Honoria,  and,  for  that  all-sufficient  rea 
son,  ask  you  to  refuse  the  proposed  alli 
ance  with  Lord  Ruthven,  and  give  her  to 
me  |  » — that  was  little  less  than  insanity. 
Pride  was  the  master-passion  of  the  colo 
nel — the  ambition  of  seeing  his  daugh 
ter  make  a  great  match  ;  and  now,  when 
this  match  was  offered,  when  Honoria 
could  become  my  Lady  Ruthven,  the 
wife  of  a  nobleman,  Colonel  Brand  was 
to  be  expected  to  say,  "My  daughter 
cannot  wed  your  lordship.  I  reserve 
her  for  a  poor,  obscure  little  cousin  of 
ours!" 

The  result  was,  that  Innis  was  wretch 
ed,  and  Honoria  was  not  happier.  She, 


THE   TWO  RIVALS. 


69 


saw  the  fate   coming  —  could   find 

ray  of  hope.  All  that  these  young 
earts  could  do,  in  their  unhappy  situa 
tion,  was  to  love  each  other  more  and 
more,  comfort  each  other  with  expres 
sions  of  hope  in  which  they  did  not  be 
lieve,  and  await  the  intervention  of  that 
good  Providence  which,  watching  over 
the  sparrows,  watches  much  more  over 
pure  hearts,  loving  and  faithful  to  each 
other. 

On  this  morning,  when  we  have  heard 
Lord  Ruthven'order  his  coach,  Innis  and 
Honoria  were  conversing  in  the  drawing- 
room  ;  and  the  poor  youth  had  spoken 
of  the  probable  fate  to  befall  them,  with 
mingled  pride,  suffering,  and  courage. 
In  the  midst  of  their  conversation,  a 
chariot  stopped  before  the  door,  a  knock 
was  heard,  and  the  voice  of  Lord  Ruth- 
ven  asked  for  Colonel  Brand.  The  ser 
vant  was  then  heard  replying  that  his 
master  was  not  at  home,  whereupon 
Lord  Ruthven  asked  for  Miss  Honoria, 
was  informed  that  she  was  in,  and  en 
tered  the  drawing-room. 

As  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  young  lady 
and  Innis*  Ruthven  turned  visibly  paler, 
and  his  agitation  was  obvious.  He, 
nevertheless,  advanced  calmly  into  the 
apartment,  bowed  with  cordial  courtesy, 
and,  offering  his  hand  to  Innis,  said :  . 

"  I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  see 
ing  you  for  some  weeks,  Mr.  Innis." 

Innis  returned  his  salutation  with 
calmness,  and  said  : 

"  My  books  have  taken  np  my  atten 
tion  greatly,  my  lord ;  and  then  I  fear 
you  attach  little  pleasure  to  our  meeting 
— the  first  time  was  unfortunate,  and  you 
doubtless  owe  me  a  grudge." 

"For  my  fall?  By  no  means,  sir; 
and  I  do  not  regret  it,  since  it  gave  me 
the  pleasure  of  your  acquaintance." 

There  was  something  sincere  and 
courteous  in  the  voice  of  Ruthven.  His 
melancholy  was  ineradicable,  but  the 
new  influence  operating  upon  his  char 
acter  seemed  to  have  made  his  disposi 


tion  more  frank  and  kindly.   Innis  bowed, 
and  said : 

"Your  lordship  alludes  with  great 
courtesy  to  what  I  shall  always  lament." 

And,  having  exchanged  these  polite 
commonplaces,  the  gentlemen  sat  down. 

Honoria's  cheeks  were  burning,  and 
she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  carpet, 
scarce  raising  them  as  she  replied  to  the 
commonplace  phrases  of  Lord  Ruthven. 
That  gentleman  was  much  too  well  bred 
to  appear  to  notice  the  evident  constraint 
of  the  young  lady's  manner ;  and  thus 
half  an  hour  passed,  at  the  end  of  which 
time  Lord  Ruthven  rose,  begged  that 
Honoria  would  present  his  compliments 
to  the  family,  bowed,  first  to  the  young 
lady,  and  then  to  Innis,  and  left  the 
house. 

Innis  resumed  his  seat,  and  for  some 
time  gazed  in  silence  upon  the  floor. 

"  There  is  no  longer  any  room  for 
doubt,"  he  said  at  length,  with  the  calm 
ness  of  despair. 

"To  doubt,  Edmund?"  murmured 
the  young  girl,  faintly. 

"In  what  character  Lord  RutUven 
comes  hither,"  said  Innis ;  "  'tis  as  a 
suitor  for  your  hand,  Ilonoria." 

Ilonoria  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands  and  sobbed.  The  poor  child  had 
no  words  to  reply — she  knew  that  denial 
was  vain. 

"Am  I  mistaken  in  so  thinking?" 
said  Innis.  "  You  know  this,  as  I  do,  do 
you  not  ?  " 

"Yes!" 

And  a  second  sob  followed  the  de 
spairing  monosyllable. 

"  His  suit  will  prosper.  You  will  be 
— his  wife,  Honoria!  Your  father  will 
never  permit  you  to  reject  a  nobleman 
of  his  high  position  !  He  is  worthy  of 
you,  too — anger  shall  not  make  me  un 
just.  But,  worthy  or  unworthy,  the  die 
'  is  cast !  " 

"  Oh,  no !  I  will  never,  never  con 
sent  !  "  sobbed  the  girl. 

"  How  can  you  resist  ?  "  said  Innis.  in 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


despair.  "Your  father's  will  is  strong 
enough  to  break  down  your  own.  He 
will  disregard  your  opposition  and  de 
clare  that  you  know  not  what  is  best  for 
you.  In  his  eyes,  you  will  be  but  a  coy 
and  romantic  girl,  unable  to  choose  your 
destiny  aright." 

Ilonoria  sobbed  out,  in  a  helpless 
voice : 

"  O  Edmund,  Edmund,  he  cannot, 
will  not,  force  me  to  so  miserable  a 
union.  Lord  Ruthven  is  a  gentleman 
worthy  of  esteem ;  but  to  marry  him 
would  make  me  wretched,  and  I  will  tell 
papa  so !  He  is  not  so  hard,  it  may  be, 
as  you  think  him,  Edmund.  He  loves 
me,  and  when  I  tell  him  that — I  love 
you  only — am  yours,  in  the  sight  of 
Heaven — that  I  have  no  other  heart — " 

The  poor,  faltering  voice  broke  down. 
In  a  faint  whisper  she  added  : 

"  Oh,  he  will  not  make  me  so  wretch 
ed!" 

Innis  shook  his  head. 

"  You  do  not  know  what  men  are 
made  of,  my  poor  darling — they  are  very 
hard.  The  heart  is  very  hard  when  the 
hair  is  gray,  and  the  blood  cold.  They 
find  excellent  reasons,  then,  for  separat 
ing  young  hearts — money,  position,  pru 
dence,  is  the  text  of  their  discourse ; 
and  I  know  not  if  I  should  blame  them — 
if,  in  Colonel  Brand's  situation,  I  should 
act  otherwise." 

"  Oh,  no  ! — do  not  speak  so !  I  will 
never,  never  become  Lady  Ruthven  !  " 

The  words  seemed  to  pierce  Innis 
like  a  weapon,  coming  thus  from  Hono- 
ria's  lips,  and  his  brows  were  suddenly 
knit. 

"Lady  Ruthven!  Are  you  so  sure," 
he  said,  groaning,  "  that  the  difference 
between  plain  Mrs.  Edmund  Innis  and 
my  Lady  Ruthven  will  not  have  some  in 
fluence  on  you  even  ?  " 

"Edmund,"  she  exclaimed,  "this  is 
cruel,  very  cruel  in  you !  'Tis  unworthy 
of  you  to  so  wound  a  poor  girl  who  is 
unhappy  enough  already !  " 


"Yes,  doubtless 'tis  cruel,  unworthy; 
but  I  am  so  wretched !  How  can  I  see 
my  happiness,  more  than  my  life,  at 
stake,  and  keep  my  senses  ?  Maidens 
have  lived  who  have  shrunk  under  this 
sore  temptation — who,  when  called  upon 
to  choose  between  a  poor  youth  and  a 
wealthy  nobleman,  have  forgotten  all  but 
the  splendor  upon  one  side  and  the  pov 
erty  on  the  other.  But,  God  keep  me 
from  classing  you  with  such,  Honoria! 
I  am  as  certain  of  your  faith  as  I  am  of 
my  own  existence — I  know  that,  if  your 
hand  be  tied  to  this  gentleman's  by  a 
mockery,  your  heart  would  not  go  with 
it — I  know  all  that,  Honoria ;  I  trust  you 
as  I  would  trust  an  angel — but  what  is 
the  result  for  me  ? — what  can  I  do  ?  All 
is  dark  before  me ! — I  can  do  nothing — " 

Innis  bowed  his  head,  and,  for  a  mo 
ment,  no  sound  was  heard  but  the  sobs 
of  Honoria. 

Suddenly  Innis  rose  erect,  and  a 
glance  at  his  face  indicated  that,  in  this 
single  instant,  he  had  come  to  a  fixed 
resolution. 

"Listen,  my  poor,  dear  Honoria! — 
my  only  hope  in  life  !  A  man  can  only 
fail.  When  he  has  done  his  best,  and  is 
crushed,  he  can  still  fall  with  honor,  and 
with  some  solace  in  his  misery !  I  will 
formally  ask  your  father  for  his  daugh 
ter's  hand.  Should  he  refuse,  then — " 

The  door  opened  as  Innis  was  speak 
ing,  and  Colonel  Brand  entered  the 
apartment. 


XXXI. 

THE    INTEEVIEW. 

COLONEL  BRAND  was  clad  in  full  dress 
— embroidered  coat,  gold  threaded  waist 
coat,  velvet  short-clothes,  silk  stockings, 
ruffles,  and  powder.  His  air  was  even 
more  stately  than  when  at  Rivanna — his 
reception  by  the  governor,  and  the  suc 
cessful  debut  of  his  beautiful  daughters, 
having,  in  no  small  degree,  heightened 
his  consequence  in  his  own  eyes. 


THE  INTERVIEW. 


He  bestowed  a  bow,  full  of  stately 
politeness,  upon  Innis,  and,  passing  his 
fingers,  after  his  habitual  fashion,  be 
tween  his  neck  and  cravat,  with  a  lofty 
air,  said  a  few  words  to  Honoria.  The 
young  lady  replied  in  a  trembling  voice  ; 
and,  finding  that  her  self-possession  was 
leaving  her — that,  if  she  remained  lon 
ger,  she  would  probably  burst  into  tears 
— abruptly  left  the  apartment. 

Colonel  Brand  followed  her  with  his 
eyes — their  expression  indicating  unmis 
takable  astonishment.  He  turned  sud 
denly  to  Innis  with  some  hauteur,  and 
found  that  the  young  man  had  resumed 
his  seat,  thus  manifesting  a  plain  inten 
tion  not  to  take  his  departure.  The  hau 
teur  was  succeeded  by  a  glance  of  cold 
surprise.  The  colonel  sat  down  in  a 
great  arm-chair,  and,  settling  his  chin  in 
his  ample  white  cravat,  looked  at  Innis 
with  the  air  of  one  who  says,  "  Well, 
sir,  what  have  you  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

The  youth  courageously  returned  the 
haughty  glance  of  his  companion — for 
wretchedness  had  quite  dulled  his  nerves 
— and  said : 

"I  beg  a  few  words  with  you,  sir, 
upon  a  matter  of  great  importance  to 
me." 

His  voice  was  calm  and  measured — 
the  tremor  of  the  tones  almost  entirely 
imperceptible. 

"  A  matter  of  importance,  sir  ?  "  said 
the  colonel,  coldly  inclining  his  head;  "  I 
am  at  your  service." 

"  I  wish  to  ask  your  consent  to  my 
marriage  with  Honoria." 

The  words  were  quickly  uttered,  but 
they  seemed  to  have  upon  Colonel  Brand 
the  effect  of  a  blow. 

"Your  marriage! — with  Honoria!" 
he  gasped,  thrown  completely  from  his 
balance,  and  losing  all  his  self-possession. 

"  With  Honoria,  sir." 

"  Are  you  mad,  sir !  "  came,  in  the 
same  gasp  of  utter  astonishment,  from 
the  colonel.  u  What  has  put  so  crazy  a 
thought  into  your  mind,  sir  ?  It  is  an  ut 


ter  absurdity — a  piece  of  madness !  Your 
proposal  is  astounding,  sir! — it  shocks 
me  beyond  words  I  " 

Innis  was  silent.  With  a  heightened 
color  and  a  stern  compression  of  the  lips, 
he  braced  his  strength  against  the  com 
ing  storm. 

"  Yes,  sir !  I  use  the  proper  word — 
your  words  shock  me !  Marriage — with 
my  daughter  —  Honoria!  Good  Ileay- 
ens!"  ^ 

u  I  had  supposed  that  you  had  seen, 
perhaps,  reason  to  anticipate  this  request, 
sir." 

The  colonel  grew  purple — anger  be 
gan  to  take  the  place  of  astonishment. 

"  That  I  had  seen — xecn  rcaspn  ?  Ye* 
sir,  I  have  seen,  as  you  have  th&jgoodness 
to  word  it,  your  very  improper  proceed 
ings.  But  I  had  not  dreamed,  sir,  that 
it  would  come  to  this — that  I  should 
coolly,  calmly,  without  notice,  be  called 
upon  to  consent  to  the  marriage  of  Miss 
Brand  to  a  person  like  yourself—to  one 
who—" 

"  Stop,  sir!  "  cried  Innis  suddenly,  in 
a  voice  as  haughty  as  the  colonel,  "  at 
least  spare  me  your  insults;  I  am  at 
least  a  gentleman,  and  you  shall  not  be 
under  the  necessity  of  asking  me  out  of 
your  house.  I  will  leave  it !  " 

As  Innis  spoke,  the  burning  cheeks, 
the  flaming  eyes,  the  lips  trembling  with 
sudden  ire  at  the  tones  of  the  colonel, 
showed  that  the  blood  of  a  haughty 
race  in  the  veins  of  the  youth  had  taken 
fire. 

"  I  am  poor — nothing  it  may  be,  in 
your  eyes — but  I  am  a  gentleman,  as  you 
arc  aware,  sir,  and,  if  I  am  to  be  insulted, 
this  interview  shall  here  terminate  !  " 

Innis  rose,  stern,  cold,  and  erect — a 
statue  of  pride — and  had  made  a  >tep 
toward  the  door,  when  the  voice  of  the 
other  arrested  him. 

uSit  down,  sir,"  said  the  colonel,  in 
an  agitated  voice.  "  1  have  more  to  say 
to  you,  and  it  is  far  from  my  design  to 
offer  you  any  insult." 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


The  eyes  of  Innis  met  those  of  Colone 
Brand,  and  he  read  in  the  latter  no  lon 
ger  the  contemptuous  expression  which 
they  had  at  first  worn,  rather  a  gloom} 
satisfaction  at  finding  opposed  to  him 
one  as  proud  and  strong  as  himself,  who 
would  not  consent  to  be  crushed  by  a 
word  and  a  look. 

"I  repeat,  sir,"  said  the  colonel,  "that 
I  have  no  earthly  intention  of  offering 
you  offence — of  insulting  you.  Insult 
you  ?  No,  sir.  If,  under  the  excitement 
of  the  moment — in  consequence  of  this 
very  sudden  and  unexpected  proposition 
— I  have  forgotten  the  courtesies  of  good 
society,  I  beg  that  you  will  forgive  it,  sir, 
receiving  my  apologies.  I  trust  that  I 
am  too  well  acquainted  with  the  propri 
eties  of  life,  and  the  respect  due  from  one 
gentleman  to  another,  to  offer  outrage  to 
one  bearing  your  name ;  but  I  repeat  also, 
sir,  and  I  wish  to  repeat  it  so  plainly 
that  there  can  be  no  misunderstanding, 
that  the  alliance  which  you  do  me  the 
honor  to  propose  is  entirely  out  of  the 
question." 

Innis  bowed  with  gloomy  courtesy  in 
response  to  these  calmer  words,  and 
said: 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  discuss  the  subject 
— to  interrogate  you,  sir;  but  before  I 
terminate  this  interview,  the  last  in  all 
probability  I  shall  ever  have  with  you, 
may  I  beg  you  to  inform  me  why  my 
proposal  for  Honoria's  hand  is  entirely 
out  of  the  question  ?  " 

The  words  as  nearly  confused  Colonel 
Brand  as  it  was  possible  for  him  to  be 
confused.  He  had  no  answer  ready.  It 
is  very  easy  to  exclaim,  storm,  declare  a 
thing  absurd,  but  difficult  sometimes  to 
declare  why  it  is  absurd.  Colonel  Brand 
remained,  therefore,  for  a  moment  en 
tirely  silent,  and  Innis,  catching  with  the 
despair  of  a  drowning  man  at  this  straw 
of  hope,  suddenly  said,  in  his  earnest  and 
pathetic  voice : 

"  Why— I  pray  you,  sir,  to  tell  me— 
why  is  my  marriage  with  Honoria  im 


possible  ?  I  am  a  gentleman,  her  equal, 
poor,  'tis  true,  but  I  have  talent,  people 
say,  and  I  love  her  dearly  —  with  the 
fondest,  the  truest  devotion — and  would 
make  her  happy!  Why,  then  is  it  so 
impossible  ?  I  do  not  ask  you  to  have 
pity  upon  my  suffering — that  is  not  the 
tone  of  a  man — but  I  love  Honoria  so 
truly !  How  shall  I  live  without  her !  " 

This  passionate  cry  of  love  and  an 
guish,  bursting  through  all  the  wrap 
pings  of  ceremony,  visibly  touched  the 
proud  but  not  narrow  or  sterile  mind  of 
the  colonel.  He  was  silent,  but  slowly 
shook  his  head,  uttering  a  sort  of  sigh. 

"  My  young  friend,"  he  said  at  length, 
"  this  painful  interview  is  quite  useless, 
'tis  only  a  suffering  to  us  both.  You 
touch  my  feelings,  but  you  do  not  shake 
my  fixed  resolve.  I  have  said,  and  repeat, 
that  your  social  status  is  not  the  question 
— a  gentleman  is  a  gentleman  under  all 
circumstances,  whatever  his  condition ; 
but  your  union  with  Honoria  is  none  the 
less  an  impossibility.  She  is  a  mere 
child,  and,  although  I  do  not  say  that  her 
age  is  an  insuperable  obstacle,  'tis  still  a 
serious  one.  I  believe,  sir,  that  you  are 
attached  to  your  cousin.  I  will  not  for 
a  single  moment  do  you  the  gross  injus 
tice  of  believing,  much  less  of  saying, 
that  mercenary  motives  control  you.  A 
vulgarian  might  offer  you  that  insult,  sir, 
and  so  be  rid  of  your  presence ;  but  I,  a 
Virginia  gentleman,  am  incapable  of  so 
degrading  myself.  No,  my  poor  young 
friend,  I  am  perfectly  well  assured  that 
you  are  far  above  so  ignoble  a  calcula 
tion  ;  the  question  is  different,  but  I  am 
none  the  less  immovable.  I  regret  that 
my  words  should  cause  you  so  much 
pain,  but  believe  me,  on  an  occasion  like 
this,  plain  words  are  best.  I  cannot  give 
you  my  daughter,  Mr.  Innis.  Enough 
;hat  I  am  compelled  to  refuse  your  re 
quest.  For  yourself  personally,  sir,  I 
cherish  both  respect  and  regard.  It  is 
possible  that  I  have  not  appeared  to  you 
very  cordial  personage,  but  my  man- 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE'S  DISCOVERY. 


ners  are  naturally  reserved,  and  perhaps 
pride  is  one  of  my  defects.  If  you  have 
thought  me  without  regard,  even  affec 
tion  for  you,  you  are  mistaken.  You 
will  find  this  fancy  dissipated  in  course 
of  time,  perhaps,  and  do  me  justice. 
Now,  let  us  cease  to  speak  upon  this  very 
painful  subject.  The  present  conversa 
tion  need  not  make  us  strangers  hence 
forth,  but  I  would  counsel  you  as  a  friend 
to  avoid  as  far  as  possible  occasions  that 
will  serve  to  nourish  a  hopeless  attach 
ment.  I  must  leave  you  now,  sir;  let 
us  part  friends.  I  do  not  venture,  sir, 
under  the  circumstances,  to  make  offers 
to  a  gentleman  of  your  rank,  but,  should 
the  occasion  present  itself,  I  shall  take 
the  liberty  of  proving  myself  your  friend, 
begging  you  not  to  take  offence  thereat, 
but  to  regard  me  as  your  very  sincere 
well-wisher." 

"With  these  words  the  stately  colonel 
rose,  held  out  his  hand  to  Innis,  or 
rather  took  that  of  the  youth  in  his  own, 
pressed  it  cordially,  and  with  a  bow,  left 
the  apartment. 

Innis  had  scarcely  returned  the  grasp 
of  the  colonel's  hand.  His  head  seemed 
turning.  He  slowly  took  his  hat,  and 
went,  walking  as  it  were  in  a  dream,  to 
the  door,  which  opened  and,  closed  be 
hind  him. 

The  clash  sent  a  pang  to  the  lonely 
heart  up-stairs — the  girl  who,  in  her 
chamber,  lay  sobbing  as  though  her 
heart  were  breaking. 


XXXII. 

DE.  VANDYKE'S  DISCOVEEY. 

INNIS  was  going  along  Duke-of-Glou- 
cester  Street,  walking  like  a  somnambu 
list,  wholly  unconscious  of  the  world 
around  him,  when  suddenly  he  was  ar 
rested  by  a  material  obstacle:  he  had 
stumbled  all  at  once  against  another 
somnambulist,  as  far  away  from  the 


real  world  of  Gloucester  Street  as  him 
self. 

He  raised  his  eyes,  and  saw  that  the 
obstacle  was  a  human  being,  and  this 
human  being  Dr.  Vandyke. 

The  eccentric  physician  was  as 
strange  a  spectacle  as  ever.  His  squat 
and  powerful  form  was  arrayed  as  before 
in  the  long  overcoat  whose  skirts  beat 
his  heels ;  his  feet  were  encased  in  enor 
mous  buckled  shoes,  into  which  descend 
ed  his  old  shrunken  legs  clad  in  splatter 
dashes,  and  from  under  his  wide  hat 
flowed  the  long  gray  elf-locks,  framing 
the  thin  face,  with  its  sardonic  lips,  and 
piercing  eyes  burning  like  coals  beneath 
the  bushy  gray  eyebrows. 

"Well  met,  my  young  sir  !  "  said  Dr. 
Vandyke,  whose  countenance  was  full 
of  joy;  "you  walk  over  old  friends,  it 
seems,  without  deigning  to  notice  their 
existence." 

"  Your  pardon,  doctor,"  said  Innis  in 
a  low,  hopeless  voice ;  "  I  was  thinking 
— did  not  see  you — " 

"  Thinking  ?  —  a  villanous  habit !  — 
What  has  youth  to  do  with  thinking? 
Act !  enjoy !  and  leave  the  rascally 
thinking  to  the  graybeards  !  " 

There  was  a  species  of  tonic  in  the 
rough,  unceremonious  voice — common 
place  consolation  would  have  disgusted 
Innis;  this  man's  talk  was  a  stimulant, 
making  him  lose  sight  of  his  woe.  He 
nodded,  therefore;  unconsciously  per 
mitted  the  cut-off  giant  to  link  an  arm 
in  his  own,  and  drag  him  along  with 
him,  and  said : 

"  So  youth  is  the  time  of  enjoyment, 
is  it?  And  yet  I  am  young,  and  I  do  not 
enjoy." 

Dr.  Vandyke  looked  side  wise  at  him. 

"  You  do  not  enjoy?  " 

"I  do  not." 

"  A  love-disappointment? " 

Innis  groaned. 

"  Let  us  not  speak  of  it." 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  "  bnt 
suffering  brings  strength.  True,  I'd 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


rather  not  have  strength  at  that  price, 
and  go,  even  at  my  age,  for  enjoyment — 
which  I  have  at  last  secured." 

Innis  looked  at  him,  and  simply  nod 
ded. 

"Ah!  ah!"  chuckled  the  physician, 
"you  do  not  comprehend.  You  don't 
see  how  an  old  mummy  like  myself  can 
enjoy.  But  I  have  discovered  the  elixir 
vita." 

And  Dr.  Vandyke's  face  grew  radiant 
with  joy  and  pride. 

"  The  elixir  vitw  ?  "  said  Innis. 
"  I  so  style  it,  since  it  combats  pain, 
suffering,  perhaps  death  itself." 

The  young  man  gazed  at  the  speaker 
in  astonishment. 

"  Your  meaning,  doctor  ?  " 
"Come  with  me  to  my  laboratory, 
and  I  will  show  you." 
"To  your  laboratory?" 
"  In  the  nest  street.     You  are  dis 
engaged  ? " 
"Yes." 

"  Come,  then !  " 

And  with  huge  strides,  his  long  great 
coat  flapping  against  his  thin  legs,  Dr. 
Vandyke  went  onward,  dragging  Innis 
with  him. 

"  I  have  not  seen  you  for  some  weeks 
now,"  he  said — "  scarcely  since  my  visit 
to  Kivanna." 

"  I  have  lived  much  retired,  engaged 
in  study." 

"  One  of  the  joys  of  life.  And  the  Bi- 
vanna  family  are  well?  They  have 
brought  with  them,  I  see,  that  strange 
child  Meta,  who  played  so  tragic  a  part 
in  the  'dumb-cake'  business.  I  saw 
her  at  his  excellency's  ball  looking  at 
you." 

"  She  is  with  the  family." 
"  And  still  insane  ?  " 
"  The  word  is  strong,  doctor.     She  is 
deaf,  dumb,  and  weak  in  mind,  from  an 
accident — a  fall   from  horseback  which 
drove,  it  is  supposed,  a  portion  of  bone 
into  the  brain." 

"  Ah  ?     But  why  was  no  operation 


ever  performed  ?    I  mean    no  surgical 
operation." 

"The  attempt  was  made,  I  believe, 
but  the  child  struggled  so  violently  that 
'twas  impossible." 

An  expression  of  extreme  joy  and 
triumph  overspread  the  countenance  of 
Dr.  Vandyke. 

"I  was  not  mistaken,  then,"  he  mut 
tered  ;  "  but  for  my  grand  discovery — " 

He  stopped  suddenly,  and  said  : 

"When  did  you  last  see  our  friend 
Lord  Buthven  ? " 

"  This  morning." 

The  words  were  forced  from  the  lips, 
and  a  suppressed  groan  came  out  with 
them.  The  marvellously  acute  ears  of 
the  physician  caught  the  sound. 

"  Enough — I  know  all  now,"  he  mut 
tered  ;  "  they  are  rivals  for  the  love  of  my 
little  patient,  and  it  is  Buthven  who  will 
win." 

Innis  turned  his  gloomy  eyes  upon 
his  companion.  He  had  caught  the 
word  Buthven. 

"  You  are  speaking  of  his  lordship  ?  " 
he  said. 

"Was  I?  Well,  this  soliloquizing  is 
a  bad  habit.  Buthven,  however,  makes 
one  think.  Mad — mad  as  a  March  hare !  " 

"Lord  Buthven?" 

"  Himself.  Do  you  doubt  it  ?  What 
else  explains  his  fits  and  starts — his  visions 
— his  terrible  look  at  times  as  he  glances 
over  his  shoulder  ?  He  is  mad — and  yet 
as  sane  a  man  too  as  I  ever  encountered." 
The  doctor  chuckled.  "  Science  tells  of 
such  cases,"  he  said. 

"I  had  not  thought  thus  of  his  lord 
ship,"  said  Innis.  "  He  is  calm,  courteous, 
an  official  of  acknowledged  efficiency,  I 
am  assured,  and,  if  mad,  mad  on  one 
subject  only." 

"You  have  hit  it.  There  is  one 
chamber  in  his  brain  full  of  cobwebs, 
but  otherwise  vacant — or,  if  not  vacant, 
inhabited  by  spectres  called  Edmund 
Innis  and  Honoria  Brand." 

Innis  started. 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE'S  DISCOVERY. 


"  Your  meaning,  doctor  ?  " 

"I  saw  him  at  the  assembly  when 
she  entered,  and  his  face  wore  the  same 
look  as  on  that  day  when  he  saw  you 
first." 

"  Doctor,  your  penetration  is  fright 
ful,  terrible." 

"Why  not?  Tis  my  trade— this 
diagnosis  of  body  and  mind.  To  dismiss 
Kuthven.  He  is  a  mystery  still  to  me, 
despite  my  theories — and  a  mystery  from 
which  I  anticipate  something  fearful. 
But  here  we  are  at  my  house.  Come  in. 
I  will  make  you,  first  of  all  the  world, 
partaker  of  my  triumph !  " 

Irmis  suffered  himself  to  be  led  by  the 
singular  personage  up  the  steps  of  the 
small  house  which  we  have  described  in 
the  beginning  of  this  history ;  a  huge 
key  opened  the  door;  and,  throwing 
open  another  door  on  the  right,  the  doc 
tor  ushered  his  guest  into  his  study, 
where  a  fire  was  burning — a  yellow  cat 
stretched  on  the  rug  before  it.  Dr.  Van 
dyke's  first  proceeding  was  to  pause  and 
listen. 

"Good !  "  he  then  said,  with  an  air  of 
relief.  "  Snuffers,  that  venerable  female, 
is  reposing  on  her  virtuous  couch  I — me- 
thinks  I  hear  the  noise  of  distant  thun 
der,  long  reverberating,  and  unmistaka 
bly  proceeding  from  her  ancient  nose  ! 
Sweet  music ! — dulcet  harmony !  Every 
body,  friend,  is  afraid  of  something  or 
somebody — I  am  afraid  of  Snuffers !  Her 
tongue  is  caustic,  her  head-dress  a  night 
mare! — but  I  philosophize!  Sit  down, 
my  guest ;  you  are  in  domo  mea,  or  rather 
tua.  See,  even  Felina,  my  favorite,  wel 
comes  us — my  cat — though  her  front- 
leg  has  sustained  a  compound  fracture, 
doubtless  the  result  of  night-prowling 
and  the  encounter  of  dogs." 

Felina  from  her  rug  uttered  a  low  cry 
of  pain  or  response.  Dr.  Vandyke  en 
throned  himself  in  a  great  arm-chair ;  his 
thin  legs  spread  out ;  his  hands  -extended 
toward  the  blaze;  his  face  joyful. 

"  The  moment  approaches,"  he  said, 


"when  the  great  arcanum  is  to  be  re 
vealed  to  one  of  the  elect!  But  I  jest  in 
an  unseemly  manner  over  so  serious  a 
topic.  Let  me  speak  gravely." 

The  eccentric  countenance  suddenly 
lost  its  joyful  and  careless  expression. 

"  I  am  about  to  exhibit  before  you, 
my  young  friend,"  he  said,  "  what  will 
prove  one  of  the  greatest  and  most 
blessed  discoveries  which  God  has  <ever 
permitted  the  poor,  narrow  brain  of 
humanity  to  reach.  But  first  let  me  ask 
you  what  is  the  greatest  of  human  ills?  " 

"  Despair,"  said  Inn  is,  with  an  expres 
sion  of  immovable  gloom. 

"  Suffering,  that  is  to  say." 

"Yes." 

"Of  the  mind?" 

"Yes." 

"  You  reply  justly ;  and  yet,  my  young 
friend,  there  is  reason  to  question  whether 
the  capacity  of  suffering  possessed  by 
the  body  is  not  greater  than  that  pos 
sessed  by  the  mind.  I  say  that  there  is  a 
question— I  assert  positively  nothing. 
But  remember  the  warnings  of  the  Holy 
Book.  The  'wrath  to  come,'  is  typi 
fied  by  fire — the  continuous  burning  of 
the  flesh,  and  the  gnawing  of  a  worm 
upon  the  vitals.  Thus  'tis  lodily  pain 
that  is  held  up  as  the  chief  woe — the  ut 
most  penalty." 

"  Yes,  but—" 

"  The  soul,  you  would  say,  suffers  re 
morse,  despair,  and  these  are  worst  of 
all.  So  let  it  be — let  us  only  say,  then, 
that  bodily  pain  is  terrible ;  that  there  is 
reason  to  doubt  whether  medicines  af 
fect  the  body  as  they  affect  the  soul. 
You  are  in  despair — well,  a  year  after 
ward  you  are  joyful.  You  love  your 
wife,  your  child,  your  sweetheart,  and — 
you  forget  them.  Time,  the  great  phy 
sician,  has  cured  your  mental  malady, 
and  yet  time  has  not  cured  yonder  vic 
tim  of  consumption,  as  it  did  not  cure 
the  leper." 

Innis  nodded. 

"I    understand.    .   You    would    say 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


that  there  are  many  anodynes  for  the 
soul— fewer  for  the  body." 

"Yes!  yes!  yes! — Until  yesterday." 

"Until  yesterday?  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  seized  the  cat  lying  up 
on  the  rug. 

"  Look  at  this  animal,"  he  said.  "  She 
is  in  pain — is  she  not?  " 

"  Doubtless.  Her  leg  is  broken,  and 
hanging  down.  When  you  only  touch 
it,  she  utters  a  cry  of  suffering." 

" Good !  " 

And,  filled  again  with  his  overflowing 
joy,  Dr.  Vandyke  took  a  phial,  uncorked 
it,  poured  some  of  the  contents  of  a 
liquid  which  it  contained  upon  his  hand 
kerchief,  and  applied  it  to  the  mouth  of 
the  animal. 

The  liquid  exhaled  a  penetrating  odor, 
which  seemed  as  repulsive  to  the  cat  as 
it  was  to  Innis.  But  Dr.  Vandyke  con 
tinued  to  press  the  handkerchief  upon 
the  mouth  of  the  animal ;  gradually  its 
head  drooped  sidewise,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  it  exhibited  every  indication  of 
death. 

"  What  now !  "  said  the  physician, 
whose  face  was  radiant ;  "  what  is  the 
condition  of  this  animal?  " 

"  I  should  say  that  you  had  poisoned 
her,  doctor — that  she  is  dead." 

"  You  shall  see." 

And,  stretching  the  apparently  inani 
mate  form  upon  the  table,  Dr.  Vandyke 
opened  a  drawer  and  took  out  a  long, 
sharp  instrument,  whose  point  he  tried 
upon  his  palm. 

"  If  she  is  dead,"  he  said,  "  there  can 
be  no  harm  in  probing  the  wound  which 
she  had  the  misfortune  to  sustain  during 
her  late  life — for  the  benefit  of  science  ! 
I  may  be  called  in  by  some  wealthy 
dowager  to  set  or  amputate  the  leg  of 
her  pet  Angola :  then,  my  young  friend, 
a  knowledge  of  cat-anatomy  may  result 
in  guineas." 

The  doctor  raised  the  broken  leg  and 
felt  it. 

"  A  bad  compound  fracture,"  he  said, 


"  and  scarce  such  as  to  admit  of  setting. 
She  would  die  of  it." 

"Then  the  cat  is  not  dead?"  said 
Innis,  absorbed  in  spite  of  himself  in 
the  singular  proceeding  of  his  com 
panion. 

"  Wait,  and  see." 

And  Dr.  Vandyke  carefully  probed 
the  wound,  extracting  some  fragments 
of  bone.  The  cat  did  not  stir. 

"  Useless,"  he  said ;  "  the  limb  must 
be  amputated." 

And,  returning  the  probe  to  its 
drawer,  he  took  out  an  exceedingly 
sharp  knife,  a  minute  saw,  and  some 
thread. 

"  Now,  for  the  surgical  operation,"  he 
exclaimed. 

And,  with  a  sure  and  rapid  hand,  lie 
made  a  circular  incision,  dividing  the 
flesh  to  the  bone  ;  sawed  the  bone  asun 
der  ;  threw  away  the  remnant,  gathered 
up  and  confined  the  bleeding  arteries, 
and  exclaimed — 

"  The  operation  is  over !  " 

The  cat  had  not  moved  a  muscle,  or 
uttered  a  sound  indicating  pain,  or  even 
consciousness. 

"What  say  you  now?"  cried  Dr. 
Vandyke. 

"  I  say  that  it  was  useless  to  perform 
so  skilful  an  operation  upon  a  dead  ani 
mal." 

"  Look ! " 

At  the  same  instant  the  body  of  the 
cat  was  agitated  with  a  species  of  tre 
mor;  the  eyes  opened,  and  the  animal 
looked  at  its  master  without  indications 
of  any  pain.  Innis  gazed  at  the  spec 
tacle  with  profound  astonishment,  and 
then  his  eyes  passed  to  the  face  of  Dr. 
Vandyke. 

"I  now  understand  your  meaning," 
he  said ;  "  you  have  discovered  the 
antidote  to  pain.  You  are  immor 
tal  !  " 

"If  some  other  human  being  does 
not  secure  the  fame  of  my  discovery. 
I  have  |bund  what  the  most  eminent 


THE   RIXG. 


doctors  have  been  seeking  for  in  vain.* 
Yes !  a  poor  physician  of  the  colonies 
has  revolutionized  medical  science  !  For 
what  I  have  here  performed  upon  this 
poor  animal  may  be  performed  with  the 
same  ease  upon  men  and  women !  Pain 
under  the  surgeon's  knife  has  had  its  day 
— the  study  of  a  lifetime  is  rewarded 
supremely  by  this  blessed  triumph !  O 
humanity  I  —  humanity,  that  perchance 
will  never  hear  my  name — I  am  your 
supreme  benefactor  —  to  me  you  owe 
statues  I  " 

A  species  of  furious  triumph  pos 
sessed  the  eccentric  personage.  He 
gesticulated,  strode  about  the  room,  and 
seemed  wild  with  joy  and  triumph. 
Suddenly  he  stopped. 

"  You  now  know,  do  you  not,  friend, 
why  I  asked  you  the  condition  of  the 
young  girl  Meta  ?  " 

"Of  Meta,  doctor?" 

"  She  has  had  a  fall  from  horseback ; 
it  has  paralyzed  alike  brain,  and  tongue, 
and  hearing,  for  a  fragment  of  bone  has 
impinged  upon  the  brain,  and  this  little 
fragment  has  dethroned  language,  and 
reason,  and  education,  since  education 
is  through  the  ear.  This  poor  creature 
is  thus  a  pagan  and  a  lunatic.  No 
operation  can  be  performed,  from  the 
wild  struggling  with  which  she  resists  it. 
Well,  see  that  small  phial! — with  one- 
fourth  of  its  contents,  I  paralyze,  in  my 

*  Though  the  discovery  of  the  anaesthetic  properties 
of  ether  three-quarters  of  a  century  before  the  first 
experiments  of  Wells  and  Morton,  may  seem  too  im 
probable  oven  for  fiction,  yet  it  should  be  remembered 
that  ether  was  known  to  the  alchemists,  and  that  the 
method  of  making  it  was  described  by  Valerius  Cordus 
in  1540.  It  is  also  to  be  considered  that  physicians  long 
sought  for  some  means  of  benumbing  the  nerves  of 
sensation  during  surgical  operations,  and  that  in  the 
last  century  their  attention  was  particularly  turned  to 
ether,  which  Dr.  Frobinius  first  brought  into  general 
notice  by  a  paper  in  the  "Philosophical  Transactions"1 
of  1T30.  There  is,  therefore,  really  no  improbability  in 
supposing  that  an  able  and  inventive  student  of  chem 
istry  and  medicine  like  Dr.  Vandyke  may  have  antici 
pated  in  his  solitary  researches  the  discovery  of  Mor 
ton,  and  that  the  memory  of  his  success  may  have  been 
lost  in  the  confusion  of  the  Involution,  which  wa.-  tin-u 
close  at  hand. 


turn,  this  rebellious  bundle  of  nerves — I 
cut  with  the  knife  and  saw  into  the 
child's  very  brain,  and  she  feels  no  pain ! 
I.  remove  the  obstacle  to  the  action  of 
her  reason — she  hears,  speaks,  thinks,  is 
taught — 1  have  performed— I,  the  poor 
worm — what  the  world  calls  a  miracle ; 
and  have  I  not  the  right  to  demand  my 
statue?" 

An  hour  afterward  Innis  was  return 
ing  to  his  lodging,  full  of  an  astonishment 
which,  for  the  moment,  dissipated  his 
misery ;  and  Dr.  Vandyke,  on  the  same 
evening,  was  closeted  with  Lady  Brand, 
and  speaking  of  Meta. 

Leaving  the  sequel  of  the  consulta 
tion  to  its  proper  place,  we  return  to  the 
main  current  of  our  narrative. 


XXXIII. 

THE      KING. 

ANOTHER  month  had  passed.  It  was 
one  of  those  nights  of  winter  when  the 
world  seems  to  have  bid  farewell  forever 
to  warmth  and  sunshine ;  when  the 
wind  groans  drearily  around  the  houses 
and  through  leafless  trees,  and  the  moon, 
drifting  through  long  surges  of  black 
cloud,  only  adds  with  its  funereal  and 
flitting  beams  to  the  hopeless  desolation 
of  the  face  of  the  world. 

Innis  traversed  the  deserted  streets 
of  Williamsburg,  slowly  advancing  tow 
ard  the  residence  of  Ilonoria.  He  had 
been  summoned  by  her,  after  a  long 
separation  caused  by  the  serious  illness 
of  the  young  lady;  he  was  ignorant  of 
the  object  of  this  long  -  deferred  inter 
view  ;  but  something  whispered  to  him 
that  it  had  some  connection  with  the 
continuous  visits  of  Lord.Ruthven,  and 
the  dreary  expression  of  the  pale  and 
haggard  face  indicated  the  nature  of  his 
anticipations. 

He  entered  the  house,  not  noticing 
that  the  old  family  servant,  who  opened 
the  door,  looked  at  him  with  deep  com- 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


miseration.  Honoria  was  seated  alone, 
before  the  fire  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
a  susceptible  tremor  agitated  her  frame 
as  h<i  entered.  Innis  started.  The  gjgl 
was  tto  longer  any  thing  but  the  shadow 
of  herself.  She  was  fearfully  thin  and 
pale,  and  the  eyes,  dim  and  sunken,  were 
full  of  a  strange  apathy.  With  her  long, 
flowing  robe  fitting  but  loosely  now  to 
her  slender  figure,  she  resembled  a  ghost. 
She  was  motionless,  except  that,  from 
moment  to  moment,  she  turned  back 
ward  and  forward  with  her  thin  fingers 
a  ring  upon  the  third  finger  of  her  left 
hand. 

As  Innis  approached,  she  slowly 
turned  her  head  and  looked  at  him. 
The  appearance  of  the  haggard  face,  and 
the  apathetic  eyes  surrounded  by  red 
rings,  made  him  shudder. 

"  I — sent  for  you,"  she  said,  in  a  faint, 
low  voice,  with  something  dreary  and 
hopeless  in  its  accent ;  "I  wished  to  see 
you — once  at  least — before — " 

The  voice  faltered  and  died  away. 

"Before— my  marriage,"  she  added, 
in  a  sort  of  whisper. 

Innis  shook  from  head  to  foot,  and 
drew  a  long  breath  through  his  set  teeth. 

"  Your  marriage  ?  "  he  said,  convul 
sively. 

"  My  marriage." 

The  apathy  had  extended  to  the  voice 
now.  Honoria  looked  at  him,  and  add 
ed: 

"  Then  you  did  not  know  that  I  was 
to  be  married  ?  " 

The  young  man  suddenly  lost  all  self- 
command,  and  cried: 

"  0  my  G-od  I  Honoria !  Do  not  say 
that !  Do  not  look  at  me  so !  I  shall 
go  mad !  " 

"  And  I  too,  Edmund,  if  I  am  not  so 
already." 

The  slow,  measured  accents  had  not 
changed  ;  the  young  lady  was  evidently 
the  victim  of  utter  despair,  and  her 
nerves  were  paralyzed. 

14 Do  you  think,"  she  went  on,  "that 


I  too  have  had  no  reason  to  go  mad  ? 
My  father  has  betrothed  me  to  Lord 
Ruthven,  despite  my  tears,  and  prayers 
for  mercy — only  mercy !  Nothing  moves 
him.  He  acts  for  my  good,  he  says.  I 
will  thank  him  some  day — girls  do  not 
know  their  minds — another  opportunity 
for  so  great  a  match  may  never  again 
occur — I  must  abandon  my  school-girl 
fancies — I  must  marry  this  nobleman  !  " 
"You  cannot — shall  not?"  Innis 
suddenly  cried;  "it  would  be  mon 
strous!  " 

"  It  will  be  monstrous." 
"  Will  be !  " 
"Yes." 

"You  will  marry  this  man?" 
"I  must!  " 

Innis  fell  into  a  chair,  covering  his 
face  with  his  hands.  All  his  manhood 
had  succumbed. 

"  Oh,  you  cannot,  you  cannot !  "  he 
cried ;  "  it  will  kill  me !  " 

"  We  shall  then  be  together  again," 
came  in  a  low,  solemn  voice  from  the 
girl. 

Innis  raised  his  head  and  looked  at 
her  with  fiery  eyes,  full  of  blinding 
tears. 

"Do  you  think,"  said  Honoria,  slowly 
and  calmly,  "that  I  am  stronger  than 
you — that  I  can  live  through  this  degra 
dation,  this  lie  of  promising  love  to  him 
when  I  love  —  you  —  you  only  in  this 
world?  I  have  submitted  to  the  will  of 
my  father,  and  have  not  sunk  under  my 
sufferings — I  have  been  very  ill,  but  have 
grown  well  again,  as  you  see.  Soon  I 
shall  be  ill  a  second  time,  and  then  I  shall 
not  recover.  Nor  would  I.  Once  I 
shrunk  from  death — now  I  long  for  it, 
and  pray  God  to  send  it  me,  as  His 
dearest  blessing." 

Innis  fell  upon  his  knees  before  her, 
seizing  the  poor,  thin  hands. 

"Oh,  do  not  speak  of  death,  my  own 
Honoria  !  "  he  cried.  "  Live  for  me,  your 
poor,  poor  Edmund! — refuse  to  sell  your 
self  thus,  in  this  hateful,  this  horrible 


PHIL   GARY   FINDS   THE  MOMENT. 


union  !  Your  father  is  cruel — leave  him  ! 
Come  with  me,  and  be  what  you  are  in 
the  sight  of  Heaven,  my  dear  wife !  " 

Honoria  slowly  shook  her  head. 

"  Such  unions  are  not  happy.  Obe 
dience  to  parents  is  commanded  by  a 
greater  power  than  any  upon  earth.  Do 
not  urge  me,  Edmund — there  is  no  hope — 
no !  Do  not  let  us  even  speak  of  that ! 
Death  alone  can  free  me  from  this  fright 
ful  fate.  I  have  sent  for  you,  to  tell  you 
that  I  shall  die  soon — to  say  farewell — 
and—" 

With  a  convulsive  movement,  she 
drew  the  ring  from  her  thin  finger,  held 
it  out  to  Tnnis,  and,  turning  away  her 
head,  whispered: 

"And  to  return  you  this." 

The  effort  exhausted  her  strength, 
but  unsealed  the  blessed  fountain  of  tears. 
She  burst  into  passionate  sobs,  let  her 
face  fall  hopelessly  upon  the  wet  face  of 
the  youth  at  her  feet,  and  exclaiming — 
"This  is  killing  me,  Edmund!"  fainted 
in  his  arms. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward,  Ho 
noria  was  in  her  chamber,  clasped,  al 
most  lifeless,  in  the  arms  of  her  sister ; 
and  Innis  was  walking  the  street  with 
wild  and  uncertain  steps  —  a  hopeless 
man  in  the  dreary  winter-night. 


XXXIV. 

PHIL    CART    FINDS   THE    MOMENT. 

IT  was  the  morning  succeeding  this 
scene,  full  of  passionate  anguish.  In  the 
same  chair  which  had  been  occupied  by 
Honoria  in  the  drawing-room,  sat  her 
sister  Lou,  bending  down  and  weeping. 

"I  cannot  endure  it!  Oh,  I  cannot 
endure  the  thought!"  she  sobbed  out. 
"  It  will  kill  Honoria!  What  is  to  become 
of  us  ?  Oh,  what  is  to  become  of  us  ?  " 

The  hands  which  had  covered  her 
beautiful  face  fell,  and  her  eyes  were 
seen  bathed  in  tears  which  flowed  silent 
ly  down  the  flushed  cheeks.  She  gazed 


for  some  moments  fixedly  upon  the  floor  ; 
uttered  a  moan  ;  and,  rising  to  the  full 
height  of  her  superb  figure,  leaned  for 
por^ — for  she  felt  weak  and  faint — 
against  the  carven  wood-work  of  the  tall 
mantel-piece. 

Such  was  her  preoccupation  that  she 
did  not  hear  the  door  open,  or  see  a 
personage  who  stopped  upon  the  thres 
hold. 

"  Oh,  this  place  is  hateful,  hateful !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  Why  did  we  ever  come 
hither,  and  Honoria  meet  this  person  ? 
If  I  could  only  fly  from  this  town— never 
to  return  !  Oh,  who  will  take  me  ?  " 

"I,  Lou,"  said  a  voice  behind  her,  and 
turning  quickly  she  saw  Phil  Gary,  smil 
ing,  with  a  frank  light  in  his  blue  eyes, 
standing  in  the  door-way. 

"  You !  "  she  exclaimed ;  "  I  did  not 
know  that  you  were  within  a  hundred 
miles,  sir!" 

Phil  Gary's  face  had  been  full  of  hnppy 
smiles.  Now  he  blushed  suddenly,  and 
a  gloomy  expression  replaced  the  sun 
shine. 

"So  the  capital  has  made  you  for 
mal  !  "  he  said. 

"Formal!— me?" 

"You  no  longer  call  me  Pfiil  as  at 
Rivanna — then  you  have  forgotten  me, 
or  grown  cold  to  me  ? " 

Miss  Lou  Brand  blushed  unmistakably 
in  her  turn. 

"Cold? — no!  you  are  so  unjust! — 
why  should  you  think—!  "  There  she 
stopped. 

There  seemed  little  reason  for  so 
much  embarrassment,  or  for  such  care 
ful  avoidance  of  her  visitor's  eye.  What 
could  be  the  matter  with  the  witty  and 
satirical  Miss  Brand  ? 

The  young  man  became  more  and 
more  gloomy;  but  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
with  this  gloom  mingled  a  passionate 
sentiment  of  some  description. 

"I  thought  you  would  have  met  me 
with  a  little  more  cordiality,  Lou,"  he 
said.  "But  pardon  me — doubtless  'tis 


80 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


disagreeable  to  you  to  have  such  liberties 
taken." 

"Liberties!"  murmured  the  young 
lady,  carefully  not  looking  at  him. 

"The  liberty  of  calling  you  by  your 
old  name.  I  will  not  further  offend." 

"  Oh  no !  no ! — do  not  call  me  other 
wise;  do  not  be  formal  with  me,  Philip." 

A  roseate  flush  spread  itself  over  the 
beautiful  face. 

"  I  am  so  unhappy !  "  she  added,  with 
a  suppressed  sob. 

"  Very  unhappy  ?  " 

The  impetuous  youth  drew  the  hand 
which  he  held  in  his  own  toward  him. 
The  owner  did  not  seem  to  observe  the 
circumstance,  or  the  fact  that  her  com 
panion  was  gazing  into  her  averted  face 
with  passionate  tenderness. 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes !  "  she  murmured ; 
"  this  town  is  hateful  to  me !  Why 
should  I  conceal  my  feelings,  or  hide  our 
family  trouble  from  you  ?  Ilonoria  is  to 
marry  my  Lord  Ruthven! — think  of  it! 
He  is  odious  to  her — or,  if  not  odious, 
indifferent  —  and  she,  you  know,  she 
loves  Edmund  with  her  very  heart  of 
hearts !  Oh,  'tis  frightful !  Can  Heaven 
smile  upon  a  union  so  repulsive?  To 
give  the  hand  to  one  when  the  heart  is 
another's — to  be  driven  to  a  marriage 
from  which  you  shrink  with  a  shudder 
of  disgust !  And  yet,  'tis  fated  to  be 
thus  —  our  father  is  immovable.  Last 
night  Edmund  bade  farewell  forever  to 
Honoria,  and  the  poor,  poor  thing  fainted 
in  his  arms — where  she  belongs — where 
she  belongs !  " 

And  the  warm-hearted  girl  burst  into 
passionate  tears.  Before  she  was  aware 
of  it,  she  was  sobbing  upon  her  old  play 
mate's  shoulder  ;  he  was  speaking  to  her 
in  hurried,  passionate  words  of  love  and 
comfort ;  and,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after 
ward,  the  young  man,  in  a  moment,  as  it 
were,  and  ignorant  almost  how  it  came 
about,  had  avowed  his  own  love,  and  was 
the  girl's  accepted  lover. 

These  things  thus  happen.  —  They 


had  lived  all  their  lives  together,  jested, 
laughed,  teased  each  other  daily  —  not 
knowing  that,  amid  all  that  mirth  and 
carelessness,  they  were  gradually  ap 
proaching  the  moment  when  they  would 
love  each  other !  This  instant  of  passion 
ate  anguish  had  decided  their  destinies. 
The  beautiful  young  girl  was  sobbing, 
suffering,  looking  around  her  for  some 
one  to  comfort  her,  and  Fate  brought 
her  playmate — loved  more  than  she  her 
self  dreamed.  He  had  spoken,  and  the 
throbbing  hearts  beat  close,  each  pressed 
to  each,  in  a  long,  lingering  embrace. 

An  hour  afterward,  Miss  Lou  Brand, 
blushing  in  an  angelic  manner,  and  smil 
ing  through  her  tears  like  an  April  morn 
ing,  whispered,  faintly: 

"But,  your  mother,  Philip?  She 
does  not  wish  you  to  marry  anybody, 
you  know.  Are  you  sure — do  you  think 
she  will — have  me?  " 

The  reply  of  Mr.  Phil  Gary  to  this 
question  was  of  a  peculiar  character ; 
but  neither  his  words  nor  his  actions  will 
be  here  recorded.  In  due  time  lie  suc 
ceeded  in  expressing  himself  intelligibly, 
and  informing  the  young  lady  that  his 
excellent  mother  had  been  quite  ill ;  that 
she  longed  for  a  daughter-in-law  to  cheer 
her  loneliness ;  and  he  further  assured  his 
companion  that  Mrs.  Gary  had  ended 
their  last  discussion  by  warmly  urging 
her  son  to  pay  his  addresses  to  Lou 
Brand. 

"  Then—  " 

The  young  lady  uttered  that  single 
word,  blushing  radiantly  as  she  did  so, 
and  glancing  sidewise  for  the  hundredth 
part  of  a  second  at  her  lover. 

"  Don't,  Philip !  "  came  from  her  a 
moment  afterward  ;  and,  as  the  descrip 
tion  of  this  scene  has  proceeded  to  suffi 
cient  length,  we  now  close  the  door,  and 
discreetly  retire. 


A  STRANGE   COMFORTER. 


81 


XXXV. 

A   STEANGE   COMFOETER. 

To  return,  for  a  moment,  to  the  pre 
ceding  night,  Innis  had  walked  the 
street  wildly  for  an  hour  after  his  inter 
view  with  Honoria.  Then,  without  con 
sciousness  of  the  fact,  he  bent  his  way 
toward  his  lodgings,  entered,  ascended 
the  narrow  stairs,  and  found  himself  in 
his  chamber,  where  the  dying  embers 
scarce  revealed  the  outlines  of  the  furni 
ture. 

He  fell  into  a  seat,  uttered  a  groan, 
and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"  I  was  sure  of  it !  "  muttered  a  voice 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fireplace. 
"Who  will  say  hereafter  that  penetra 
tion  is  not  one  of  my  qualities !  " 

Innis  started,  and  looked  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  voice. 

"  Oh,  it's  only  your  friend  Vandyke," 
said  the  eccentric,  who  was  sprawled  as 
usual  in  a  capacious  chair.  "  I  have  only 
been  awaiting  you  an  hour  and  a  half. 
Your  old  servant  told  me  where  you  had 
gone,  and  I  knew  what  the  result  of  your 
visit  would  be.  So  the  bonny  bird  is  go 
ing  to  flit  from  you  at  last  ?  " 

"  Spare  me  !  "  groaned  Innis.  "  I  am 
wellnigh  heart-broken,  and  cannot  speak 
of  this." 

"  Let  us  speak  of  something  else,  then. 
Have  you  seen  Meta?  " 

"No." 

"  She  is  cured." 

And  the  doctor  kicked  together  the 
brands  in  the  fireplace  with  his  huge  foot, 
and  produced  a  blaze. 

"  Let  us  talk  a  little  by  firelight — 'tis 
the  best  to  talk  by,"  he  said,  composedly. 
"  Yes,  Meta  is  cured." 

"  You  have  not  performed — " 

"  My  operation  ?  Yes.  Three  weeks 
since — without  difficulty,  without  pain ! 
— and  the  child  is  convalescent — more, 
sane  !  SANE  !  SANE— I  tell  you !  " 

As  he  uttered  the  words,  "  sane,  sane, 
sane,"  Dr.  Vandyke's  voice  rose  steadily 

6 


in  loud  and  sonorous  accents,  until  the 
latter  word  was  nearly  shouted  aloud. 

"Yes,  my  young  friend,"  he  added, 
"  after  our  last  interview  I  sought  Colo 
nel  Brand  and  Lady  Brand  immediately 
— proposed  to  perform  the  operation — 
conquered  their  scruples — administered 
my  elixir  vitce  to  the  child — removed  the 
fragment  of  bone  thrust  by  her  fall  upon 
her  brain ;  and  now  she  smiles,  hears, 
understands,  and  babbles!  —  babbles,  I 
say,  for  speech  slowly  returns.  But,  it 
will  return — nay,  it  has! — and  you  will 
find  as  much." 

The  words  were  uttered  with  a 
strange,  wistful,  mysterious  significance. 
One  would  have  said  that  this  man  was 
in  possession  of  some  secret  which  he 
longed  to  reveal,  but  was  prevented  by 
circumstances  from  disclosing. 

In  a  moment,  Innis  lost  sight  of  his 
own  misfortunes,  thinking  of  Meta. 

"  Cured — sane !  "  he  said  ;  "is  it  pos 
sible,  sir  ?  I  confess  I  had  no  faith  in  any 
such  miracle." 

"  There  are  no  miracles,"  said  Dr. 
Vandyke,  "  save  those  of  the  Holy  Script 
ures.  A  miracle  is  the  violation  by  the 
Supreme  Law-giver  of  His  own  law — as 
when  Lazarus  rose  at  the  command  of 
the  Son  of  God.  Else  the  seasons,  the 
course  of  the  stars,  the  growth  of  the 
acorn,  were  miracles.  Nor  is  this  cure 
of  a  Door  human  being,  under  the  scal 
pel,  more  of  a  miracle  than  these.  The 
obstacle  to  the  operation  was  there,  and 
was  removed.  Science  moves  and  acts 
under  the  fiat  of  the  Supreme  Power. 
The  child  is  sane — she  laughs  and  weeps, 
and  I  heard  her  praying !  " — the  words 
were  uttered  proudly,  triumphantly  — 
"  and  without  pain !  "  added  the  physi 
cian. 

"  Absolutely  ?  "  said  Innis. 

"  She  did  not  move !  When  the  oper 
ation  was  over,  she  murmured,  in  a  low 
voice,  '  That  is  my  oriole  singing  in  the 
tree ! ' " 

Innis  listened  with  astonishment. 


82 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"  And  she  speaks  distinctly?  " 

"  Not  perfectly.  Long  disuse  of  the 
lingual  muscles  is  the  only  obstacle.  And 
now  that  I  have  told  you  of  Meta,  tell 
me  of  yourself." 

"  I  have  naught  to  tell  you,  doctor," 
said  Innis,  in  a  voice  of  utter  despair. 
"  Your  words,  a  few  moments  since,  in 
dicated  a  knowledge  of  my  most  private 
affairs — of  my  very  great  distress — spare 
me,  then,  the  grief  of  referring  to  it." 

"So  be  it,"  said  he ;  "  but  will  you 
receive  advice  from  a  very  old  man,  who 
has  suffered  much  ?  " 

"Advice?" 

"  Counsel,  based  upon  experience." 

"  Most  willingly." 

"  Then  I  sum  up  my  advice  to  you  in 
a  single  word — wait." 

"  Wait,  for  what  ?  " 

"  For  that  which  the  future  will  bring 
forth.  I  do  not  say  that  it  will  bring 
forth  happiness — it  may  produce  misery. 
But — wait.  Take  no  trouble  on  trust. 
The  cloud  is  dark  often  when  the  sun  is 
about  to  shine.  There  are  no  miracles, 
but  there  are  strange  events  in  the  his 
tories  of  human  lives ;  and  'twas  to  say 
this  that  I  came  to-night,  through  cold 
<md  storm — and  I  was  going  to  wait,  if 
necessary  until  daylight,  for  your  re 
turn." 

Having  uttered  these  mysterious 
words,  the  physician  seized  Innis's 
hand,  squeezed  it  with  the  forcft  of  a 
giant,  dashed  his  hat  upon  his  head,  and 
disappeared  from  the  apartment. 


XXXVI. 

THE   FAMILY   IN    CONCLAVE. 

INNIS  was  seated  before  the  fire  in 
his  chamber,  on  the  second  day  after 
these  scenes,  gazing  with  dull  and  stupe 
fied  eyes  into  the  blaze,  when  a  knock 
came  at  his  door,  and  the  old  butler  of 
Colonel  Brand  entered,  bowing  respect 
fully. 


The  young  man  returned  his  greeting, 
in  a  dreary  way,  and  said : 

"Well,  Robin?" 

"A  note  from  master,  Mas'  Ed 
mund." 

And  the  old  gray -haired  servant  went 
to  a  table,  took  a  small  waiter  therefrom, 
deposited  the  note  upon  it,  and  respect 
fully  presented  it  to  Innis.  He  took  it 
with  a  strange  expression  of  mingled  re 
pugnance  and  surprise,  and,  tearing  it 
open,  read  the  following  lines  : 

"  SIR  :  May  I  beg  you  to  do  me  the 
honor  to  visit  me  at  my  house  between 
the  hour  of  noon  and  one  o'clock  to-day  ? 
An  affair  of  a  very  extraordinary  char 
acter  renders  your  presence  desirable, 
and  I  beg  that  you  will  not  fail  to  be 
present  at  the  hour  named. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be 
"  Your  servant, 

"R.  BRAND. 
"To  EDMUND  INNIS,  Esq.,  Gloster  Street." 

The  young  man  read  this  note  over 
twice,  with  indications  of  very  great  as 
tonishment,  and  muttered,  "An  affair  of 
an  extraordinary  character." 

A  slight  movement  made  by  old 
Robin  recalled  the  fact  of  his  presence. 
It  was  necessary  to  reply  to  the  colonel's 
note  ;  and  Innis  wrote  a  line  to  him,  in 
forming  him  that  he  would  be  present  at 
the  hour  indicated.  This  note  he  handed 
to  old  Robin.  That  old  colored  gentle 
man — for  gentleman  Robin  was  in  his 
character  and  feelings — carefully  placed 
the  missive  in  his  pocket,  fell  back  a 
step,  and — waited. 

Innis  looked  at  him. 

"  You  have  something  to  say  to  me, 
Robin  ? " 

"I  thought,  Mas'  Edmund,"  said 
Robin,  "  you  might  have  something  to 
say  to  me" 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  understand  you,  Robin ! 
Thanks,  thanks,  my  good  friend.  Your 
Miss  Honoria — " 


THE   FAMILY   IN   CONCLAVE. 


83 


"She  is  better  to-day,  sir." 

Innis  sighed  deeply,  and  his  head 
sank.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  fire, 
his  expression  absent  and  dreamy,  and, 
taking  this  as  an  indication  that  his 
presence  was  no  longer  desired,  old  Robin 
silently  and  respectfully  left  the  apart 
ment. 

The  young  man  continued  for  some 
time  lost  in  reverie. 

"  What  now  I  "  he  muttered  at  length. 
"  Here  is  a  mystery  which  at  other  times 
would  certainly  interest  me !  'An  affair 
of  an  extraordinary  character  '  —  what 
may  that  be  ?  That  my  Lord  Ruthven 
is  an  impostor — I  a  changeling,  and  the 
true  representative  of  the  earldom? 
What  means  this  most  mysterious  mys 
tery  ?  Ah !  well— all  speculation  is  idle, 
doubtless.  I  shall  very  soon  see." 

And,  relapsing  into  reverie,  the  young 
man  continued  to  gaze  with  his-old  ex 
pression  into  the  blaze. 

At  noon  precisely,  Innis  presented 
himself  at  Colonel  Brand's  door,  and 
had  no  necessity  to  ask  for  the  master  of 
the  mansion,  who  stood  upon  the  thresh 
old  of  the  great  drawing-room,  waiting 
to  receive  him. 

It  was  obvious,  from  the  appearance 
of  the  colonel's  face,  that  some  surpris 
ing  event  had  occurred.  A  sudden  al 
teration  had  taken  place  in  him.  The 
countenance,  ordinarily  so  flushed  and  ru 
bicund  with  high  living  and  rich  wines, 
was  pale  and  haggard ;  the  air  of  proud, 
almost  haughty  politeness,  not  unmingled 
with  condescension,  had  given  place  to  a 
bearing  full  of  absent-mindedness  and 
gloom;  the  erect  figure  was  bent;  the 
shoulders  stooped,  and  the  unwonted 
negligence  of  the  colonel's  toilet  be 
trayed  the  absorbing  character  of  the 
thoughts  which  occupied  him. 

Innis  advanced  with  slow  and  meas 
ured  steps,  and  made  a  low  and  cere 
monious  bow. 

"  I  have  come  in  response  to  your  re 
quest,  this  morning,  sir,"  he  said,  coldly. 


"I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  colonel, 
in  a  much-altered,  and  singularly  falter 
ing  voice. 

He  almost  instantly  recovered,  how 
ever,  his  self-possession,  and,  with  some 
thing  of  his  old  stateliness,  bowed  low, 
and  said: 

"  I  pray  you  to  come  into  the  draw 
ing-room,  Mr.  Innis.  I  desire  to  commu 
nicate  to  you  a  matter  of  very  great  im 
portance." 

The  last  words  were  uttered  with  a 
quick  tremor,  of  which  the  colonel  tried 
vainly  to  divest  his  voice.  As  he  spoke, 
he  stood  ceremoniously  aside,  that  Innis 
might  precede  him;  and  the  young  man, 
inclining  slightly  in  response  to  this 
courtesy,  entered  the  apartment. 

Near  a  table,  on  the  right  of  the  fire 
place,  sat  Lady  Brand,  holding  in  her 
own  the  thin  hand  of  Honoria,  who, 
pale,  anxious,  and  with  eyes  which  never 
wandered  from  Innis,  seemed  occupied 
by  some  absorbing  emotion.  Within  a 
few  feet  Lou  Brand  stood  erect,  her  su 
perb  figure  drawn  up  to  its  full  height, 
her  jewelled  hand  resting  upon  the  carved 
back  of  an  arm-chair,  and  in  this  chair 
reclined  Meta,  looking  very  white  and 
much  reduced,  but  with  an  unwonted 
expression  of  calmness  and  sweetness  in 
her  dark  eyes,  around  which  fell  a  few- 
stray  curls  of  her  black  hair. 

We  have  heard  Dr.  Vandyke  explain 
to  Innis  the  daring  attempt  made  to  re 
store  Meta,  and  its  perfectly  successful 
result.  It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  fur 
ther  upon  the  scene.  The  all-powerful 
anaesthetic  had  done  its  work,  and 
plunged  the  child  into  coma — the  rapid 
and  unerring  hand  had  removed  the  ob 
struction  to  reason — painlessly  removed 
it  even  ;  and  the  human  being,  but  lately 
a  subtle,  scheming,  insane  girl,  tongue- 
tied,  and  deaf  as  dumb,  was  in  posses 
sion  of  her  reason,  in  possession  of  the 
power  of  hearing  and  of  speaking — 
smiled,  as  those  around  her  had  not  seen 
her  smile  for  years,  and  thrilled  with 


84 


DOCTOR  VAXDYKE. 


happiness  when  informed  of  this  miracle 
wellnigh,  which  had  restored  to  her  the 
light  of  reason,  and  opened  the  hlessed 
fountain  of  tears. 

As  he  slowly  advanced  into  the  apart 
ment,  Innis  surveyed  with  a  fixed  glance 
the  group  near  the  fireplace,  suppressing 
with  difficulty  his  agitation  at  the  sight 
of  Honoria.  As  he  drew  near,  the  coun 
tenance  of  the  young  girl  flushed  slowly ; 
her  lips  trembled,  and  her  thin  hand 
convulsively  grasped  the  hand  of  Lady 
Brand,  whose  eyes  were  swimming  in 
tears. 

Before  Innis  could  speak,  Colonel 
Brand  advanced,  and  said  in  a  voice 
which  he  vainly  endeavored  to  con 
trol : 

"You  will  perceive,  sir,  that  I  have 
invited  you  to  something  which  resem 
bles  a  family  consultation.  You  see 
here  assembled  all  the  members  of  my 
family,  as  it  is  my  wish  that  all  should 
be  present  and  participate  in  this  inter 
view." 

Innis  bowed,  but  said  nothing.  He 
felt  that  his  voice  would  fail  him. 

Colonel  Brand  cleared  his  throat,  and 
drew  himself  up  with  a  painful  assump 
tion  of  dignity. 

"The  object  of  this  interview,  sir,  is 
to  inform  you  of  a  very  unexpected  dis 
covery." 

A  suppressed  sigh  from  Lady  Brand 
was  heard  as  the  colonel  ended  his  sen 
tence,  and  the  sound  seemed  to  irritate 
him. 

"  I  pray  you  do  not  permit  any  evi 
dence  of  emotion,  madam,  to  mingle 
with  this  strictly  business  consultation. 
You  will  perceive  that  I,  madam,  am  not 
agitated  in  the  least." 

And  Colonel  Brand's  voice  shook. 

Innis  looked  at  Lady  Brand,  and  saw 
that  she  was  nearly  ready  to  sob.  The 
spectacle  broke  down  his  haughty  pride, 
and  he  exclaimed : 

"  What  is  the  occasion  of  this  agita 
tion,  aunt  ?  Speak !  I  am  lost  in  won 


der  at  this  scene.  What  is  the  occasion 
of  your  grief?  " 

"  It  is  not  grie-f,  sir !  "  said  Colonel 
Brand,  with  hauteur. 

"  What  then  ?  "  said  Innis. 

"  Agitation  —  mere  agitation,  sir ! 
Ladies  do  not  understand  business." 

"  The  cause  of  this  agitation,  then,  if 
it  be  agitation  alone  ?  " 

Innis  spoke  with  vehemence,  a  vague 
excitement  mastering  him. 

"  The  reply  is  simple,  sir,"  said  Colo 
nel  Brand.  "  Yesterday  I  and  my  family 
were  persons  of  wealth  and  consequence 
— to-day  we  are  stripped  of  all,  and  are 
penniless." 

Innis  looked  at  the  speaker  with 
stupefaction. 

"You  speak  in  riddles,  sir.  I  pray 
you  will  explain  yourself." 

"  That  is  easy,  sir.  I  am  no  longer 
the  proprietor  of  Rivanna !  " 

"  Good  Heavens ! — and  who — " 

"  Is  the  owner  of  the  estate  ?  It  is 
yourself,  sir." 

"I!  "  exclaimed  Innis.  "I  the  own 
er  of  Rivanna !  " 

"Yes,  sir;  and  I  beg  to  say  that 
I  shall  in  no  manner  contest  your 
claim.  The  entire  estate  will  be  sur 
rendered  to  you,  so  soon  as  I  shall  have 
been  able  to  secure  shelter  for  my 
family." 

Innis  uttered  no  word  of  reply.  His 
eyes  were  riveted  upon  the  face  of  Colo 
nel  Brand  with  an  expression  of  incredu 
lous  astonishment. 

"I  shall  be  compelled,  for  a  brief 
space,  to  remain  a  trespasser  upon  your 
property,  sir,"  said  the  colonel,  in  an 
agitated  voice.  "I  shall  proceed  at  once 
to  collect  my  scattered  resources,  and 
shall  be  able,  I  trust,  to  secure  a  moder 
ate  provision  for  my  household — an  hon 
orable  support  for  them — the  rest  I  leave 
to  Providence." 

"  In  Heaven's  name,  end  this  preface, 
sir,  and  explain  what  you  mean ! "  ex 
claimed  Innis. 


THE  EXPLANATION. 


85 


"It  is  easily  explained,"  muttered 
Colonel  Brand.  But  there  he  stopped. 

"  The  explanation !"  said  Innis,  gloom 
ily.  "So  many  things  have  occurred 
recently,  sir,  that  I  am  proof  against 
almost  all  emotion.  You,  nevertheless, 
excite  my  curiosity." 

"Without  further  delay,  then,  you 
are,  as  I  have  said,  the  sole  proprietor 
of  the  Eivanna  estate.  Your  indul 
gence,  sir!  I  did  not  think  to  hetray 
this  agitation,  hut  the  thought  is  hitter 
that  Ellen — I  mean  Lady  Brand — and 
my  children — my  dear  children — " 

The  haughty  spirit  broke  down.  The 
voice  stuck  in  the  throat. 

At  the  same  moment  a  chariot  was 
heard  to  stop  before  the  door;  the 
knocker  rose  and  fell. 

"Lord  Euthven!"  old  Robin  an 
nounced. 

"It  is  well!"  muttered  Colonel 
Brand;  "the  family  party  is  now  com 
plete,  and  one  explanation  will  suffice 
for  everybody." 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  Lord 
Euthven,  who  had  paused  for  a  moment 
in  the  hall  to  divest  himself  of  his  furs, 
entered  the  apartment,  and  saluted  the 
assembled  company  with  a  profound  and 
courtly  inclination. 


XXXVII. 

THE    EXPLANATION. 

ETJTHVEN  surveyed  the  gathering  be 
fore  him  with  unmistakable  curiosity 
and  astonishment;  but,  suppressing  im 
mediately  all  indications  of  surprise,  said 
to  Colonel  Brand  in  his  grave  and  court 
ly  voice : 

"  I  received  your  note,  sir,  and  trust 
that  I  have  not  compelled  you  to  await 
me." 

As  he  spoke  he  drew  from  his  breast 
his  watch,  and  added,  after  looking  at 
it: 

"I  am  glad  to  find  that  I  am  punc 


tual,  having  just  the  hour  mentioned  in 
your  note." 

Colonel  Brand  bowed. 

"Strict  punctuality  was  immaterial, 
my  lord,"  was  his  ceremonious  reply  ; 
"and  Mr.  Innis,  a  necessary  personage 
in  this  family  meeting,  has  just  ar 
rived." 

"Mr.  Innis?"  said  Euthven,  turning 
his  head.  He  spoke  almost  unconscious 
ly,  but  was  quickly  aware  of  the  uncere 
monious  character  of  his  words,  and  add 
ed: 

"I  beg  that  Mr.  Innis  will  pardon  the 
apparent  discourtesy  of  my  question.  I 
had  forgotten  that  he  is  a  close  and 
valued  member  of  your  family,  sir." 

Colonel  Brand  inclined  his  head,  pre 
serving  his  cold,  almost  stiff  air  of  cere 
mony. 

"  It  was  absolutely  necessary,  as  you 
will  ere  long  become  aware,  that  Mr. 
Innis  should  attend  at  this  very  painful 
interview,"  he  said,  "and  should  have 
his  part  in  what  is  to  take  place." 

Euthven  again  bowed,  and  said  : 

"  Certainly,  sir ;  but  may  I  venture 
to  say  that  Lady  Brand  and  Miss  Brand 
appear  unwell  and  agitated  ?  Is  their 
presence  necessary? " 

"  Absolutely  necessary." 

"  Then  this  is  a  family  consultation  ?  " 

"A  family  meeting,  at  all  events,  my 
lord;  and,  though  I  shall  speak  for  my 
wife  and  daughters,  it  is  their  own  desire 
to  be  present  when  I  do  so." 

"That  terminates  the  discussion,  sir; 
pray  pardon  the  seeming  intrusion  of  my 
advice.  I  had  feared  that  a  business  dis 
cussion  would  perhaps  embarrass  or  an 
noy  the  ladies.  As  it  is  not  so,  their 
presence  is  a  satisfaction  to  me.  I  de 
rive  too  much  pleasure  from  the  society 
of  those  toward  whom  I  hope  even  to 
sustain  more  intimate  relations." 

Colonel  Brand  was  silent.  It  was 
easy  to  see  that  he  was  greatly  agitated. 
His  face  was  pale,  and  his  Invar Ji ing 
labored.  He  looked  around  him,  found 


86 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


that  every  one  was  waiting,  and  at  length 
said: 

"  I  see  that  you  expect  me  to  speak, 
gentlemen,  and  I  can  no  longer  delay  my 
very  painful  communication. — Lord  Ruth- 
ven,  yesterday  I  Avas  a  gentleman  of  large 
landed  estate,  living  in  affluence  and  lux 
ury  :  to-day  I  am  wellnigh  penniless — 
nearly  a  beggar !  A  moment,  my  lord  : 
your  astonishment  is  natural,  but  I  beg 
that  you  will  withhold  it  until  I  have 
terminated  my  necessary  explanation.  I 
shall  proceed  to  put  yourself  and  Mr.  In- 
nis,  who  is  equally  ignorant,  in  posses 
sion  of  the  facts,  and  inform  you  of  the 
unexpected  manner  in  which  I  became 
aware  of  the  real  situation  of  affairs." 

The  ladies  had  not  moved.  Lady 
Brand  continued  to  hold  Honoria's  hand 
— her  sister  to  lean  composedly  upon  the 
back  of  Meta's  chair.  Innis  and  Ruthven 
alone  exhibited  curiosity  and  astonish 
ment. 

"  I  shall  address  myself  to  you,  my 
lord,"  continued  Colonel  Brand,  in  an 
agitated  voice,  "  as  Mr.  Innis  is  more  or 
less  familiar  with  the  subject  of  which  I 
shall  speak.  The  estate  of  'Rivanna,' 
upon  which  I  live,  and  which  is  justly 
regarded  as  one  of  the  most  princely  in 
the  colony,  was  formerly  the  property 
of  Colonel  Seaton,  a  gentleman  of  many 
accomplishments  and  very  high  charac 
ter.  He  was  never  married,  and,  to  dis 
sipate  his  loneliness,  he  adopted  two 
nieces,  cousins,  who  were  greatly  be 
loved  by  him,  and  stood  to  him  in  the 
relation  of  children.  Of  these,  it  was 
supposed  that  the  elder  niece  was  the 
favorite;  but,  on  the  death  of  Colonel 
Seaton,  it  was  ascertained  that  he  had 
devised  his  estate  of  Rivanna  to  the 
younger,  my  wife,  leaving  an  inconsid 
erable  estate  to  the  elder.  The  origin 
of  this  disproportion  was  never  accurate 
ly  ascertained.  It  could  only  be  conjec 
tured  that  the  elder  young  lady,  who 
was  very  impulsive  and  high-spirited, 
had  had  some  misunderstanding  with  her 


uncle,  and  that  he  had  punished  her  by 
bestowing  the  bulk  of  his  property  upon 
her  cousin.  Something  was  said  of  Colo 
nel  Beaton's  disapproval  of  a  preferred 
suitor  of  the  elder  young  lady.  But  these 
points  are  not  important.  Colonel  Sea- 
ton  died,  leaving  Rivanna  to  his  younger 
niece.  The  elder  married  Mr.  Innis,  of 
'  Lodore,'  and  died,  leaving  an  only 
child,  Mr.  Edmund  Innis,  now  present. 
My  marriage  had  taken  place  some 
months  before,  and,  in  right  of  my  wife, 
I  became  the  proprietor  of  the  estate  of 
Rivanna.  This  estate  now  passes  to  the 
representative  of  the  elder  niece  of  Colo 
nel  Seaton,  Mr.  Edmund  Innis." 

Colonel  Brand  turned,  and  bowed 
with  formal  ceremony  to  the  young  man, 
who  gazed  at  him  in  silent  astonish 
ment,  and  seemed  to  regard  the  whole 
scene  as  a  dream. 

"The  ground  of  Mr.  Innis's  claim  to 
the  estate,"  continued  Colonel  Brand, 
"  or,  rather,  the  title  by  which  he  holds 
it  from  this  moment,  is  derived  from  a 
later  will  of  Colonel  Seaton's,  only  re 
cently  discovered  by  a  member  of  my 
family.  This  will  entirely  annuls  the 
first — is  indisputable,  and  perfectly  regu 
lar  and  formal — if  it  were  not,  the  intent 
of  the  testator  is  so  clearly  expressed, 
in  his  own  writing,  that  I  should  not  op 
pose  for  a  moment  the  effect  of  the  instru 
ment." 

Innis  let  his  head  fall,  and  uttered  a 
deep  sigh.  Then,  a  flash  of  the  eye  in 
dicated  that  some  sudden  thought  had 
passed  through  his  mind.  He  said  noth 
ing,  however,  and  Colonel  Brand  contin 
ued  : 

"  The  will  of  Colonel  Seaton  was  dis 
covered  in  an  extraordinary  manner. 
During  the  last  autumn,  a  party  of  young 
ladies,  then  on  a  visit  to  Rivanna,  deter 
mined  to  indulge  in  the  very  absurd  and 
superstitious  ceremony  of  '  eating  the 
dumb-cake,'  as  it  is  called — some  highly- 
objectionable  mummery,  connected  with 
procuring  buckets  of  water  from  a  par- 


THE  WILL. 


87 


ticular  locality,  looking  into  a  mirror  at 
midnight,  and  other  folly.     Not  to  dwell 
further  upon  this  unfortunate  incident 
than  is  necessary,  Honoria  was  selected 
to   undergo  the  trial.      And  this  poor 
child  " — he  pointed,  as  he  spoke,  to  Meta 
— "  who  had  then  the  misfortune  to  labor 
under  mental  infirmity,   determined  to 
frighten   her    cousin.      She    accordingly 
went  to  Honoria's  chamber,  and — as  she 
has  revealed  to  us  since  her  happy  resto 
ration  to  health — sought  for  a  place  of 
concealment.      There  were    no  closets, 
but  in  one   corner  stood  an  old  linen- 
chest  which  had   not  been  opened  for 
years.     The  key  had  been  long  lost ;  but 
Meta,   in    her   solitary   explorations   of 
garrets  and  dark  closets,  had  discovered 
the  key — a  large  and  peculiar  one — and 
succeeded  in  opening  the  chest,  which 
she  designed  using   as  a   hiding-place. 
This  she,  however,  found  to  be  impossi 
ble.     The  chest  was  filled  with  nonde 
script    articles  —  old   worn-out    clothes, 
papers,  and  other  things.     She  accord 
ingly    abandoned    the    idea    of   hiding 
there — took  her  place  behind  the  cur 
tains  of  the  bed,  and,  on  her  cousin's 
entry,  succeeded,  in  a  manner  it  is  need 
less  to  dwell  upon,  in  very  seriously  and 
almost  fatally  frightening  Honoria.     Not 
further  to  dwell  upon  this  very  unpleas 
ant  incident  —  Meta,  after  her  cousin's 
recovery,  returned  to  pry  into  the  chest, 
and  carried  off  many  articles  to   store 
away   in    private    receptacles  —  among 
others,    this    paper  "  —  Colonel    Brand 
drew  from  his  breast  a  folded  document, 
yellow  with  age — "  which,  in  some  man 
ner,  became  mixed  up  with  the  articles 
of  her  wardrobe  when  they  were  placed 
in  a  trunk  to  be  brought  to  Williams- 
burg.     Of  the  character  of  the  paper; 
the  poor  child  knew  nothing,  and  it  was 
only  discovered  by  accident  yesterday, 
when  she  at  once  declared  whence  it  had 
come.     Of  the  authenticity  of  the  paper 
there  can  be  no  doubt.     You  may  see  for 
yourselves,  gentlemen  1  " 


With  marks  of  great  agitation,  the 
speaker  unfolded  the  paper. 

"  See — the  last  will  and  testament  of 
Henry  Seaton,  of  Rivanna,  in  the  coun 
ty  of  Albemarle,  Esq. — written,  I  am  in 
formed  by  Lady  Brand,  in  his  own  hand 
writing,  signed,  sealed,  and  attested  by 
two  witnesses,  both  dead,  I  am  further 
informed,  a  number  of  years  since,  but 
whose  writing  could  doubtless  be  identi 
fied.  That  is,  however,  of  no  importance, 
as  the  paper  is  in  Colonel  Seaton's  hand 
writing.  You  will  perceive  the  date — 
several  months  later  than  that  of  the  will 
under  which  Lady  Brand  holds  the  es 
tate.  You  will  see,  at  a  glance,  that 
Colonel  Seaton  devises  his  entire  landed 
estate  to  the  elder  of  his  nieces — the 
mother  of  the  gentleman  here  present, 
Mr.  Edmund  Innis." 

Colonel  Brand,  with  a  trembling  hand, 
laid  the  paper  on  the  table. 

"  You  will  now  understand,  my  lord," 
he  added,  with  an  effort,  "  what  I  meant 
in  saying  that  I  and  my  family  are  beg 
gared." 


XXXVIIL 

THE        WILL. 

FOE  some  moments  the  silence  of 
death  reigned  in  the  apartment.  It  was 
first  broken  by  Ruthven,  who  had  listened 
with  profound  attention,  and  now,  when 
the  narrative  was  finished,  inclined  his 
head  with  calm  courtesy. 

"  You  have  related  a  very  singular 
history,  sir,"  he  said,  "  and  I  have  lis 
tened  with  attention  and  interest;  but 
you  will  pardon  me  for  saying  that  I  do 
not  see  the  necessity  for  my  own  pres 
ence  upon  this  painful  ocean  <'ii." 

"  No  necessity,  my  lord !  "  replied 
Colonel  Brand.  "  Your  pardon,  in  ray 
turn,  but  I  think  it  was  absolutely  incum 
bent  upon  me  to  request  your  presence." 

"  For  what  reason,  sir  ?  " 

''Simply   in    view    of   the    relation 


88 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


which  you  sustained  toward  my  family, 
as  the  accepted  suitor  of  my  daughter." 

"  The  relation  which  I  sustained, 
sir?"  said  Kuthven.  "Did  I  hear 
aright?" 

"  Yes,  my  lord,"  returned  Colonel 
Brand,  with  an  obvious  struggle  to  sum 
mon  all  his  fortitude ;  "  to-day  that  rela 
tion  necessarily  no  longer  exists." 

"  No  longer  exists !  " 

"  Assuredly  not." 

"  May  I  beg  you  to  explain  this  ex 
traordinary  observation,  sir  ?  "  said  Ruth- 
ven.  "  In  Heaven's  name,  why  should  I 
not  be  still  Miss  Brand's  accepted  suit 
or?" 

"  Because  the  engagement  of  my  Lord 
Ruthven  was  to  Miss  Honoria  Brand, 
the  daughter  of  Colonel  Brand,  of  Ri- 
vanna — therefore  to  the  heiress  of  one 
of  the  amplest  fortunes  in  Virginia — " 

"  Well,  well,  sir !  " 

The  exclamation  was  almost  impa 
tient. 

"  That  was  yesterday.  To-day  things 
are  different.  Your  engagement  was  to 
a  young  lady  of  great  possessions,  not 
to  a  portionless  girl.  Therefore  it  termi 
nates." 

"Terminates?  Do  I  hear  aright, 
sir?  Am  I,  then,  a  vulgar  person  with 
out  dignity  or  sentiments  of  honor  ?  Did 
you  really  suppose  that,  in  paying  my 
addresses  to  Miss  Brand,  I  was  actuated 
by  the  desire  of  gain  f  " 

"No,  my  lord — but  this  is  a  painful 
subject;  let  us  not  further  discuss  it." 

"Willingly,  sir!  The  discussion  *s 
very  far  from  agreeable  to  me.  I  have 
listened  to  the  statement  of  your  family 
affairs,  sir,  and  appreciate  the  compli 
ment  paid  me  in  making  me  a  partici 
pant.  That  subject  is  now  dismissed, 
and  I  may  be  permitted  to  pass  to  one 
more  agreeable  to  myself.  No  change 
will  take  place,  I  trust,  in  the  time  fixed 
npon  for  my  union  with  Miss  Brand." 

"No  change! — the  time!  Impossi 
ble — this  union  is  impossible,  my  lord ! 


My  daughter  yesterday  would  have 
brought  you  a  princely  dower :  to-day, 
she  scarce  possesses  more  than  the  cloth 
ing  she  wears!  " 

Ruthven  inclined  his  head.  "  'Tis 
sufficient  dowry  for  Miss  Brand,"  he 
said. 

"  Impossible,  my  lord!  " 

Ruthven  became  almost  irritated. 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  sir !  "  he 
said,  "what  differen.ce  is  there  in  the 
fact  you  state  ?  " 

"  I  cannot— !" 

Ruthven  grew  cool  and  ceremonious 
suddenly. 

"  Colonel  Brand,"  he  said,  "  you  are 
incapable  of  acting  otherwise  than  as  a 
gentleman,  and  observing  your  word. 
Well,  I  insist  upon  the  performance  of 
your  promise — that  you  keep  your 
plighted  word !  " 

"How  can  I?"  exclaimed  the  agi 
tated  father,  u  the  thing  is  not  possible ! 
I  repeat,  sir,  that  we  are  beggars — beg 
gars! — and  that  my  child  is  penniless! 
There  are  some  promises  which  a  gentle 
man  should  not  be  called  upon  to  ob 
serve! — it  violates  every  sentiment  of 
my  bosom  to  take  advantage  of  your 
magnanimity,  and  yield.  Once  more, 
sir,  we  have  nothing — absolutely  noth 
ing  !  And  it  is  not,  permit  me  to  say,  in 
accordance  with  rny  views  of  propriety 
— with  my  weakness  of  pride,  if  you 
choose  —  to  permit  a  daughter  of  my 
house  to  leave  her  father's  roof-tree  like 
the  child  of  a  peasant;  to  go  forth, 
naked  and  portionless,  to  the  stranger." 

Honoria  and  Innis  had  listened  to 
this  colloquy  with  an  alternate  hope 
and  terror  which  cruelly  agitated  them. 
Hope,  despair,  every  emotion,  tore  their 
hearts  ;  and  now  all  hung  upon  the  re 
ply  of  Ruthven. 

It  came,  and  was  uttered  firmly  and 
deliberately. 

"  I  have  but  one  response  to  make  to 
all  you  have  said,  sir :  /  hold  you — rigid 
ly — to  the  performance  of  your  solemn 


RUTHVEN'S  OATH. 


89 


promise — to  your  plighted  word  of  honor" 
The  words  were  slow,  measured,  and 
fell  one  by  one,  as  it  were,  from  the  com 
pressed  lips  of  the  speaker. 

"My  word  of  honor!"  murmured 
Colonel  Brand. 

"  I  mean  your  contract,  if  you  prefer 
the  word,  sir,  but  '  word  of  honor  '  is  a 
stronger  charm  to  conjure  by,  with  per 
sons  of  your  character.  You  accepted 
me  as  your  daughter's  suitor ;  gave  me 
your  word  that  she  should  become  Lady 
Ruthven.  There  all  discussion  ends,  for 
you  are  a  gentleman,  and  nollesse  oNige." 

Colonel  Brand's  head  sank. 

"Well,  have  it  as  you  will,  my 
lord,"  he  said  ;  "you  have  overcome  me 
by  this  appeal  to  my  honor.  You  de 
mand  the  performance  of  my  plighted 
word.  I  yield,  and  consent  to  your  union 
with  my  daughter. — But,  bear  witness, 
all  present,  that  I  resisted  this  proposal 
to  the  last." 

He  turned  toward  Honoria,  looking 
at  her  with  deep  melancholy. 

kt  Pride  !  pride !  "  he  muttered,  in  an 
agitated  voice;  "how  despotic  is  that 
sentiment !  Would  to  God  I  had  a  por 
tion  for  you,  my  child !  my  joy,  my  life, 
well  nigh !  That  you  should  go  forth  a 
penniless  betrothed! — Bear  with  me,  my 
lord !  I  am  growing  old,  and  prouder 
each  day,  I  think !  This  is  hard — hard ! 
But  all  is  over;  Honoria  is  your  own,  my 
Lord  Ruthven — her  hand  awaits  you — 
but  where  she  will  thus  await  you  when 
you  come  to  claim  her,  I  know  not." 

"  Miss  Brand  will  await  my  Lord 
Ruthven  at  Rivanna !  " 

The  words  rang  out,  cold  and  meas 
ured,  in  the  sudden  silence.  They  were 
uttered  by  Innis,  who  advanced  a  step  as 
he  spoke ;  and  now,  taking  the  will  of 
Colonel  Seaton  from  the  table,  tore  it  in 
pieces. 

"  As  the  representative  .of  my  moth 
er,  I  am  the  legal  owner  of  the  estate  of 
Rivanna,"  he  added.  "  This  paper  is 
the  evidence  of  my  right  and  title,  and 


I  choose  to  destroy  it.  My  cousin  will 
thus  have  a  suitable  portion  on  her  mar 
riage,  and  will  await  my  Lord  Ruthven 
in  the  home  of  her  family." 

The  words  were  uttered  in  the  same 
cold  and  deliberate  tone,  and  Innis  turned 
toward  Lady  Brand  and  Honoria. 

"I  thank  you  for  your  goodness  to 
me,  aunt,  and  thank  Heaven  too,  that  I 
am  able  to  make  you  this  small  and  poor 
return  for  all  your  love  and  tenderness  ; 
for  you  have  been  like  my  own  dear 
mother.  But  do  not  overvalue  my  act. 
For  myself,  I  ask  nothing;  I  care  not 
for  this  property.  I  shall  leave  Virginia, 
and,  as  this  is  our  last  meeting,  farewell. 
May  God  bless  and  keep  you — and  Ho 
noria!" 

He  turned  toward  the  girl  as  he 
spoke,  and  his  pale  lips  moved  as  though 
he  wished  to  say  something  to  her.  But 
no  words  were  heard.  The  agony  of  his 
soul  had  rendered  the  young  man  speech 
less,  and  he  turned  away  and  left  the 
apartment. 

The  actors  in  this  singular  scene  re 
mained  silent  and  motionless. 

Upon  the  floor  at  Colonel  Brand's 
feet,  lay  the  fragments  of  the  will  which 
had  fallen  from  the  hands  of  Innis  at  the 
moment  when  he  tore  the  document  to 
pieces. 


XXXIX. 

RUTHVEN'S  OATH. 

ON  the  night  succeeding  these  events, 
Lord  Ruthven  sat  up  until  nearly  day 
light,  writing.  He  was  plainly  not  en 
gaged  upon  an  ordinary  letter ;  the  thin 
and  nervous  hand  moved  with  painful 
deliberation  over  the  paper  ;  and  the  ex 
pression  of  Ruthven's  face  was  that  of 
a  man  who  has  bid  farewell  to  his  last 
hope  on  earth. 

This  man  was  evidently  the  victim 
of  some  secret  misery  which  blotted  out 
all  sunshine  from  his  existence ;  his  face 
was  as  pale  as  death,  his  lips  like  ashes ; 


90 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


and  from  time  to  time  he  glanced  over 
his  shoulder  with  wild  and  startled  eyes, 
as  though  he  feared  the  presence  of  some 
terrible  intruder. 

At  last  he  threw  down  the  pen.  He 
had  not  written  rapidly;  rather  slowly, 
painfully,  with  obvious  effort  and  repug 
nance  ;  and  the  sheets  which  he  had  cov 
ered  with  writing  were  not  numerous. 
He  reflected  for  an  instant ;  raised  and 
read  over  the  sheets  one  by  one ;  then 
folded  them  securely,  sealed  them,  im 
pressing  his  signet-ring  deeply  into  the 
wax,  and  deposited  the  package  in  his 
breast. 

Ruthven  then  uttered  a  deep  sigh, 
and,  rising,  looked  around  him.  Fergus 
was  seated  in  a  corner  of  the  great  fire 
place,  nodding  over  the  dying  embers ; 
for  nothing  could  induce  the  old  clans 
man,  with  his  rigid  views  of  respect  and 
propriety,  to  retire  to  his  own  pallet  un 
til  he  had  assisted  his  master  in  his  toi 
let.  Ruthven  had  quite  forgotten  his 
presence  now ;  but,  as  he  rose,  Fergus 
stood  up,  and,  in  respectful  silence,  pre 
pared  to  wait  upon  his  lord. 

Ruthven  motioned  him  to  resume  his 
seat,  and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  I  have  written  it  down,  Fergus." 

"  Written  what,  my  lord  ?  "  was  the 
calm  reply. 

"The  whole  truth— " 

Fergus  gazed  intently  at  his  master. 

"  The  truth  ?  "  he  said. 

"Yes!" 

"  The  whole  *  " 

"Yes!" 

Fergus  inclined  his  head,  but  said 
nothing. 

"Things  may  take  the  course  that 
the  devil  would  have  them  take,"  said 
Ruthven,  gloomily,  "  I  know  not — Fate 
drags  us.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  be  re 
garded  as  a  monster  of  blood.  Hence  all 
is  here  written — that  all  may  be  known." 

"  It  is  well,  my  lord." 

"I  had  it  again  last  night,  as  you 
know,"  said  Ruthven,  in  a  low  tone. 


"I  supposed  as  much." 

"Ypu  had  the  right." 

"  Naturally,  my  lord ;  inasmuch  as 
your  lordship  sprang  from  your  bed  at 
midnight,  caught  up  your  sword,  and 
when  I  grappled  with  you,  and  took 
stops  that  you  should  not  harm  your 
self,  your  lordship  made  an  attempt  to 
put  an  end  to  me." 

Ruthven  groaned. 

"0  Fergus!  Fergus!  how  and  when 
will  this  end?"  he  exclaimed.  "Par 
don  your  poor,  miserable  master,  my 
old  friend !  Better,  far  better  that  I  were 
insane,  a  diseased  lunatic,  than  the 
wretched  being  that  I  am,  sane  as  I  may 
be!" 
Fergus  did  not  reply. 

"Some  day  I  shall  kill  you,  Fergus — 
you,  the  most  faithful  of  my  blood,  for 
you  are  of  the  very  blood  of  Ruthven, 
Fergus !  " 

The  old  man's  face  was  lit  up  with 
pride  and  happiness,  as  he  listened  to 
these  words,  and,  when  he  spoke,  his 
voice  showed  that  he  was  greatly  moved. 

"Your  lordship  is  very  good,  and 
makes  your  old  clansman  happy !  They 
do  say  that  my  great-great-grandfather 
was  fifth  cousin  on  the  mother's  side,  to 
your  lordship's  ancestor.  But,  doubtless 
'tis  folly  for  the  clansman  to  compare 
himself  with  his  lord — let  us  think  of 
other  matters." 

"  I  can  scarce  think,  to-night,  my 
head  is  in  a  whirl,  Fergus.  I  go  on  a 
dark  and  bloody  path,  whose  end  I  know 
not." 

"Why  not  stop,  then  ?  " 

"  I  cannot — I  cannot !  " 

Fergus  replied  with  the  eternal  move 
ment  of  his  head,  that  said  :  "  I  am  the 
clansman,  you  my  chief — I  obey." 

"  You  say  to  me  '  Stop,'  but  to  stop  is 
impossible  now,  even  had  I  the  power 
over  my  own  will !  The  betrothal  has 
taken  place  in  regular  form ;  the  word 
of  Ruthven  is  pledged,  and  cannot  be 
recalled — and  more,  more — if  more  bind- 


RUTHVEN'S  OATH. 


91 


ing  reason  could  exist — you  know  what 
I  would  say ;  I  love  this  girl !  love  her 
with  all  the  power  of  my  being,  and — 
will  dare  the  worst !  " 

"So  be  it,  my  lord,"  said  Fergus, 
coolly  raking  the  brands  together;  "it 
is  unfortunate  but  fatal,  you  say." 

"Yes,  fatal,  awful!" 

A  long  silence  followed  these  words. 
Kuthven  broke  it  by  a  groan. 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I 
cannot,  I  will  not  believe  it !  I  will  not 
be  ensnared  so  horribly,  even  though  the 
devil  set  the  trap  !  " 

"He  is  a  good  hand  at  snares  and 
traps,  this  same  devil,  my  lord." 

"Speak  not  of  it—!  " 

"I  obey  your  lordship — 'tis  well  your 
order  came  in  time." 

"  You  were  about  to  say — " 

"  Your  lordship  bids  me  be  silent." 


"  I  would  say  that  you  have  been 
duly  warned." 

"  Yes,  yes!" 

"  You  have  seen  both  the  man  and 
the  woman  ;  things  are  advancing  as  they 
were  doomed  to  advance ;  your  lordship 
has  told  me  all — " 

"  No,  not  all !  I  have  not  told  you 
what  I  saw  last  night !  "  said  Ruthven,  in 
a  horror-struck  whisper,  which  thrilled 
through  the  old  clansman. 

"Last  night?"  he  said,  fixing  his 
eyes  upon  his  master.  "  What  was 
that?" 

"  I  saw  the  actual  spot — the  whole — 
nothing  was  left  out !  " 

Fergus  became  slightly  pale,  but  said, 
in  a  coal  voice : 

"And  yet,  after  this,  you  do  not  give 
up  the  affair  ? " 

"  I  cannot ;  I  am  powerless." 

Fergus  nodded  only,  and  this  indiffer 
ence  seemed  almost  to  enrage  his  master. 

"  Your  coldness  drives  me  mad  near 
ly  !  "  he  cried  through  his  set  teeth ; 
"you  do  not  understand,  then,  that  I  am 
on  the  ~brink  of  an  awful  precipice  !  " 


And,  as  though  he  had  not  intended 
to  utter  these  particular  words  —  as 
though  they  had  forced  themselves  from 
his  lips  without  an  act  of  the  will,  Lord 
Ruthven  started,  shuddered  convulsive 
ly,  and  turned  so  pale  that  he  seemed 
about  to  faint. 

"  My  lord,"  said  Fergus,  "I  have  but 
one  reply  to  make  to  all  this ;  but,  as  I 
have  already  frequently  made  that  reply, 
I  shall  not  trouble  you  with  it  again." 

"Speak!  speak!" 

"  Well,  I  say  again,  my  lord,  '  Give  up 
this  affair,  and  let  us  go  back  to  Scot 
land.'  " 

"  I  cannot !  " 

"  An  answer  which  your  lordship  has 
before  made ;  so  be  it.  I  see  no  advan 
tage  in  further  discussion  at  this  hour  of 
the  night." 

"  A  last  word,  Fergus— listen." 

"  I  listen,  my  lord." 

Lord  Ruthven's  feverish  excitement 
all  at  once  disappeared,  and  he  now  said, 
with  a  strange  pathos  and  earnestness : 

"  Fergus,  my  faithful  friend,  and  fos 
ter-brother,  you  at  least  must  not  misap 
prehend  me,  and  execrate  my  memory. 
Listen,  then.  Despite  the  Evil  One  and 
all  his  spirits,  I  will  steel  myself  against 
temptation,  and  rather  plunge  that  pon 
iard  yonder  into  my  heart  than  become 
the  tool  of  Satan !  I  cannot  draw  back 
now  and  return  to  Europe;  my  honor 
and  my  love  both  draw  me  on ;  but  I 
would  here,  upon  the  threshold,  without 
a  tremor  of  the  nerve,  put  an  end  to  my 
own  existence,  if  I  thought  I  should 
yield  in  this  frightful  drama.  Death — a 
thousand  deaths  first ! ,  I  swear  I  will 
crush  this  fate !— I  have  resolved,  Fergus, 
even  to  resort  to  self-destruction  first ! 
Living  or  dying  thus,  my  faithful  Fer 
gus  must  love,  not  curse,  my  memory !  " 

Ruthven  held  out  his  hand  to  Fergus, 
who  bent  over  it  and  pressed  it  to  his 
trembling  lips.  As  the  lips  touched  it, 
the  young  nobleman  felt  a  hot  tear  fall 
upon  his  hand. 


92 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"  In  life  and  death  I  am  your  clans 
man — it  is  you  who  are  the  chief!  " 

And;  as  he  uttered  these  low  words, 
the  old  man's  heart  melted,  and  he 
sobhed  aloud. 


XL. 

THE   HEAET   OF   A   CHILD. 

THEEE  has  survived  the  tempest  of 
these  events  which  we  are  recording,  a 
little  MS.  volume  in  which  Meta,  the  or 
phan,  wrote  down  her  whole  life.  Many 
pages  of  this  book  are  painful ;  many 
full  of  a  strange  pathos.  It  is  a  record 
of  the  child's  inner  life,  of  her  struggles, 
pangs,  happinesses,  and  unhappinesses, 
naive,  eloquent,  moving — but  sacred  for 
its  very  candor  and  unreserve. 

From  this  record  the  following  leaf 
is  taken,  as  necessary  to  the  comprehen 
sion  of  our  history,  which  deals  less  with 
Meta  than  with  others.  It  was  written, 
as  the  reader  will  perceive,  immediately 
after  her  restoration  to  reason,  and  clear 
ly  paints  her  life  and  feelings  at  the  mo 
ment : 

"  After  a  long  sleep,  I  seem  to  have 
awakened,  as  it  were — no  longer  a  poor, 
insane  human  creature,  but,  as  mamma 
taught  me  to  read  in  the  Holy  Book, 
*  clothed,  and  in  my  right  mind.' 

"  I  have  lived  for  years,  I  think,  in  a 
sort  of  dream-life,  like  twilight  when 
the  sun  has  gone  down ;  and  the  world 
around  me  now  seems  so  strange,  and 
so  sad !  Naught  surrounds  me  but  un- 
happiness — and,  0  me,  lie  is  the  unhap- 
piest  of  all !  Shall  I  write  of  him — and 
of— myself  ?  I  scarce  dare  place  this  feel 
ing  upon  paper,  but  why  should  I  not? 
It  was,  and  is,  only  love — the  fond,  sim 
ple  love  of  a  poor  child  that  I  felt  for 
him — Edmund.  I  write  the  name,  Ed 
mund,  with  a  throb  of  the  heart ;  but, 
'tis  written,  and  gives  me  strength  to  go 
on.  I  loved  him  very,  very  much,  and 
love  him  as  dearly  now  :  but,  no  longer 


to  watch  him,  and  scheme  to  make  him 
unhappy.  Oh,  no,  no!  I  would  give 
my  life  for  him — my  poor,  worthless  life, 
which  I  think  will  not  last  long.  I  think 
I  could  die  happy,  telling  him,  '  Tis  for 
your  happiness  I  die !  ' 

"  I  must  not  write  down  these  excla 
mations,  but  remember  what  has  hap 
pened,  rather  than  what  I  have  felt.  At 
Kivanna,  I  was  very,  very  vile — I  was 
nearly  the  death  of  my  dearly -loved  Ho- 
noria,  by  frightening  her  so  ;  and  I  then 
acted  from  a  base,  wretched  jealousy  of 
her.  I  was  so  vile  that  I  could  have 
killed  her  to  separate  her  and  him ! 
Now,  all  is  changed.  It  may  be  even 
that  I  shall  bring  him  happiness.  By 
my  act,  he  is  no  longer  a  poor,  penniless 
boy,  but  the  lord  of  Kivanna. 

"  This  came  about  so  strangely !  In 
the  old  chest,  where  I  tried  to  hide  that 
night,  I  found  many  things  which  I  hid 
away,  and,  among  others,  a  paper  which 
became  mixed  with  my  clothes,  and  was 
so  brought  to  the  capital.  Before  I  knew 
any  thing  of  this,  came  that  strange 
change  in  my  whole  life — the  removal, 
by  Dr.  Vandyke,  my  dear,  good  friend, 
of  the  cause  of  my  insanity.  I  remem 
ber  nothing  of  that,  save  a  strange,  dull 
feeling,  a  sinking,  and  an  awakening,  to 
find  my  reason,  and  my  power  of  hear 
ing  and  speaking,  all  restored.  Of  my 
rapture  I  cannot  speak.  It  was  like  en 
tering  a  new  world,  and  I  recalled  but 
dimly  what  had  taken  place  in  all  those 
years,  during  which  I  was  a  poor,  un 
reasoning,  cunning,  scheming  lunatic. 
And  it  was  just  at  this  moment  that, 
looking  in  my  travelling-trunk  one  day, 
I  chanced  to  discover  the  paper  taken 
from  the  old  chest,  and  remembered 
where  I  had  found  it.  I  read  it  with 
wonder,  and  scarcely  understanding  it 
at  first,  but  soon  its  great  importance 
was  plain  to  me.  I  had  heard  vague  ru 
mors  of  another  will  of  Colonel  Seaton's, 
and,  now,  here  was  this  will,  leaving  all 
ais  property  to  Edmund's  mother  ! 


THE   HEART   OF  A  CHILD. 


93 


"  I  held  the  paper  in  my  hand,  gazing 
at  it  with  a  fixed  look,  and  thinking. 
To  think  was  almost  a  pain  to  me,  but 
gradually  I  linked  one  thought  to  an 
other,  and  said  to  myself :  '  This  paper, 
which  makes  Edmund  wealthy,  gives  him 
Honoria.  Her  father  would  never  con 
sent  to  Honoria's  marriage  with  a  penni 
less  youth ;  hut,  if  the  youth  be  a  rich 
suitor,  the  master  of  Rivanna,  he  will 
consent !  '  That  thought  dazzled  me, 
and  made  me  wretched.  Then  lie  and 
Honoria  would  be  happy — /  should  be 
wretched !  In  my  hand  I  held  their  fu 
ture  life — it  would  be  /  who  would  give 
her  to  him  !  I  shook,  and  felt  the  evil 
spirit  tempting  me.  To  burn  the  paper 
would  be  as  easy  as  to  produce  it.  Why 
not  burn  it  ? 

"I  looked  at  the  paper  for  a  little 
while,  and  then  fell  on  my  knees,  and 
prayed  for  strength  to  resist  temptation ; 
and  got  up,  and  ran  to  dear  aunt,  and 
cried:  'Here  it  is!— here  it  is!  Take 
it — take  it !  '  She  looked  at  me  in  great 
surprise,  and  wished  me  to  tell  her  where 
I  had  gotten  the  paper ;  but  I  burst  out 
crying,  and  for  a  long  time  went  on 
sobbing,  as  she  clasped  me  in  her  dear 
arms.  Then  I  told  her,  and  she  hurried 
ly  called  Uncle  Brand,  who  came  quick 
ly,  and  read  the  paper,  turning  very  pale 
as  he  did  so.  "When  he  had  read  it  in 
silence,  and  turned  it  over,  and  examined 
it,  he  groaned,  and  said :  '  This  beggars 
us;  but  there  is  but  one  thing  to  be 
done.  Rivanna  is  not  ours,  but  his  ;  and 
must  be  surrendered  to  him.'  He  then 
questioned  me,  and  I  told  him  of  the 
discovery  of  the  paper,  when  he  knit  his 
brows,  but  said  no  more,  and  left  the 
room,  carrying  the  paper  with  him.  A 
painful  scene  followed  this.  I  was  led 
by  aunt  one  morning  into  the  drawing- 
room,  and  Edmund  and  Lord  Ruthven 
soon  came,  and  Uncle  Brand  spoke  of 
the  will.  Edmund  tore  it  in  pieces,  and 
left  the  room  — Lord  Ruthven  having 
claimed,  as  he  said,  Uncle  Brand's 


'  plighted  word  of  honor  '  that  he  should 
marry  Cousin  Honoria. 

"  Poor,  poor,  Honoria !  There  is  no 
hope  for  her  or  for  him — Edmund  !  Un^ 
cle  Brand  is  not  to  be  moved,  and  Ilono- 
ria  and  Lord  Ruthven  will  surely  be 
married.  I  do  not  rejoice  at  it — oh,  no 
— no !  My  heart  bleeds  to  think  of  his 
unhappiness — of  how  much  he  will  suf 
fer.  Why,  oh,  why  do  such  things  hap 
pen  in  this  world?  Why  should  his 
heart  be  broken  when  he  loves  Honoria 
so — and  all  that  she  may  marry  a  lord  ? 
What  is  a  lord  ?  Is  he  better  than  a 
gentleman  ?  Compare  Edmund  and  Lord 
Ruthven,  and  who  shall  say  that  Ed 
mund  is  not  the  better  worth  loving? 
But  there  is  no  hope  for  him.  Uncle 
Brand  would  rather  die,  and  have  his 
daughter  made  miserable,  than  break  his 
'word'  when  he  has  once  given  it.  I 
heard  him  say  as  much,  but  I  do  not 
think  that  he  understands  or  believes  she 
will  be  unhappy.  He  has  said  to  aunt, 
more  than  once,  in  my  hearing :  '  Pshaw ! 
— this  fancy  for  her  cousin  is  nothing. 
Lady  Ruthven  will  soon  be  consoled ; 
women  are  fickle  !  '  Are  they  ?  I  know 
not  how  it  may  be  with  others :  but  one 
poor,  weak  girl — a  girl,  not  a  woman — 
would  die  if  she  could  buy  thus  the  hap 
piness  of  one  she  has  loved  long,  and 
dearly,  and  faithfully ! 

"  I  am  not  well  to-day.  Exposure  in 
a  thin  dress  at  the  great  assembly,  at  the 
governor's  palace,  has  given  me  what 
aunt  calls  'a  cold,'  and  a  sharp  pang 
strikes  through  my  breast  at  times.  I 
feel  so  weak ;  but  all  is  in  God's  hands. 
He  knows  what  is  best  for  me.  My  life 
is  not  sunshine  that  I  should  cling  to  it, 
and  I  see  little  happiness  for  me  in  the 
future.  And,  yet,  I  do  not  repine.  He 
can  never  love  me  ;  but  I  can  love  him, 
and  pray  for  him,  and  think  night  and 
day  of  him.  Oh,  may  he  be  happier, 
and  forget  this  misery,  and  be  a  good 
man,  and  think  sometimes,  when  I  am 
gone,  of  his  poor  Meta ! — " 


IN 


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,,n     I  IK    '! 

MK    'I      I',       ,'"'     ' 


96 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


and  older  day  by  day;  and  Meta,  who 
spent  most  of  her  time  upon  a  couch, 
breathing  with  difficulty,  was  often  sur 
prised  shedding  tears. 

The  only  member  of  the  family  who 
preserved  even  the  semblance  of  a  sad 
cheerfulness  was  Lou  Brand,  whose 
buoyant  disposition  enabled  her  to  com 
bat  in  som'e  slight  degree  the  general 
tendency  to  gloom.  Phil  Gary  was  at 
Rivanna  almost  daily — for  he  was  the 
formally-acknowledged  affiance  of  the 
young  lady;  and  they  talked  intermi 
nably  of  the  sad  state  of  things. 

One  day  Lou  Brand,  after  gazing  for 
some  moments  into  the  fire,  said : 

"  Philip,  you  really  must  find  where 
Edmund  is,  and  why  we  never  hear  of 
or  from  him." 

"  You  then  wish  me  to  try  again  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  !  " 

"  You  know  how  unsuccessful  I  have 
been.  As  soon  as  I  got  back  from  Wil- 
liamsburg,  I  lost  no  time  in  going  to  find 
him,  knowing  that  he  had  ridden  already 
away  from  the  capital.  I  rode  up  the 
mountain  to  his  house,  and  found  doors, 
windows,  shutters,  all  closed,  and  not 
even  a  servant.  I  tried  a  second  time — 
knocked — shouted — no  one  came.  Shall 
I  make  a  third  attempt  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  must  know  something  about 
him  !  Yesterday  my  poor  Honoria  asked 
me,  in  a  low  voice,  what  had  become  of 
him,  and  I  could  tell  her  nothing." 

Phil  Gary  sighed  deeply. 

"  I  will  try  once  more,  then,"  he  said, 
"  but  would  to  Heaven  this  sad  tragedy 
were  over !  " 

"  Would  that  it  were  !  Rivanna,  that 
was  so  cheerful  once,  is  like  a  tomb. 
Meta  is  hopelessly  ill,  I  fear,  and  I  shall 
not  be  astonished  to  find  her  take  to  her 
bed  at  any  instant.  O  me!  what  will 
become  of  us !  " 

And  the  impulsive  and  warm-hearted 
girl  burst  into  tears.  She  almost  instant 
ly  dried  her  eyes,  however,  and  said : 

"  Why  not  go  to-day  ?  " 


"To-day?  I  shall  lose  so  much  of 
your  society.  You  know  I  am  com 
pelled  to  go  to  Williamsburg  on  business 
to-morrow." 

"  The  more  reason,  Philip,  to  relieve 
poor  Honoria's  mind.  Try,  for  the  last 
time,  to  see  Edmund ;  it  will  make  my 
poor  sister  happier  to  hear  of  him,  and 
we  can  do  nothing  better  in  this  sad 
world  than  to  make  somebody  happier." 

Phil  Gary  looked  at  the  speaker  with 
great  tenderness,  and  exclaimed  : 

"You  are  a  dear,  good  girl,  Lou! 
That  anybody  should  regard  you  as 
careless  and  unthinking!  I  will  go  at 
once,  and  return  before  evening,  if  pos 
sible." 

And,  in  ten  minutes,  the  young  man 
was  on  horseback,  riding  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  western  mountains. 

It  was  a  dreary,  chilling  landscape 
through  which  he  passed.  On  the  day 
before,  a  heavy  snow  had  fallen,  and  the 
fields  were  one  great  shroud  ;  the  moun 
tain  evergreens  weighed  down  with  the 
masses  of  snow  which  had  clung  to  them. 
The  atmosphere,  gray,  hazy,  and  omi 
nous,  indicated  another  storm  ;  and  the 
wind,  rising  and  falling  fitfully,  died 
away,  in  the  dense  masses  of  pine,  in  a 
sorrowful  moan. 

Phil  Gary  pushed  on  through  the 
deep  snow,  following  the  narrow  road 
only  by  means  of  the  opening  in  the  firs, 
for  no  track  was  visible  ;  and  thus  slow 
ly  and  with  difficulty  ascended  the 
mountain,  amid  whose  gorges  the  wind, 
now  grown  keener,  howled  and  groaned. 
But  one  living  thing  had  met  his  gaze — 
an  immense  eagle,  which  rose,  flapping 
his  enormous  wings,  from  a  pine-tree,  as 
the  rider  approached,  to  wing  his  way 
deeper  into  the  solitary  fastnesses. 

An  hour's  ride  brought  the  young 
man  at  last  in  sight  of  Innis's  small 
house  in  a  gash  of  the  mountain.  No 
smoke  rose  from  the  chimney ;  no  sign 
of  habitation  was  visible.  He  dismount 
ed,  knocked,  received  no  reply,  then  he 


DOCTOR   VANDYKE'S   DIAGNOSIS. 


97 


shouted ;  still  no  reply  came ;  and  at 
the  end  of  half  an  hour  the  young  man 
remounted  his  horse,  and  descended  the 
mountain  by  the  same  path  which  he 
had  pursued  in  ascending.  He  had  ut 
tered  but  two  words  as  he  turned  away 
from  the  deserted  house — 

"  Poor  Edmund !  " 

At  Rivanna  distressing  intelligence 
greeted  him.  Meta  had  been  taken  sud 
denly  ill,  and  at  one  time  Lady  Brand, 
who  had  been  hastily  summoned,  feared 
that  she  would  die.  "When  the  young 
man  reached  the  house,  she  was  better  ; 
but  such  was  Lady  Brand's  anxiety,  that 
she  requested  Phil  Gary,  whose  design 
of  visiting  the  capital  was  known  to  her, 
to  beg  Dr.  Vandyke  to  come,  if  possible, 
and  see  the  child. 

"  Nothing  stops  that  very  remarkable 
man,  when  he  can  relieve  suffering,"  said 
Lady  Brand.  "  Beg  him  to  come  to  me, 
Philip — I  feel  as  though  his  presence 
would  do  good  to  us  all.  "We  are  a  sad,  a 
very  sad  family,  Philip  !  " 

And  the  kind  lady  hastened  to  the 
side  of  Meta. 

On  the  next  morning  Phil  Gary  set 
out  for  "Williamsburg. 

Five  days  afterward,  hour  for  hour 
from  that  evening,  Dr.  Vandyke  got  out 
of  his  carriage,  and,  entering  the  house, 
said: 

"Well,  how  is  the  child?" 


XLIII. 
DE.  VANDYKE'S  DIAGNOSIS. 

DR.  VANDYKE  arrived  toward  night 
fall,  and  was  up  with  Meta  until  a  late 
hour  of  the  night. 

On  the  next  morning  he  requested 
that  his  carriage  might  be  ordered,  as  it 
was  necessary  that  he  should  return  to 
Williamsburg. 

Colonel  Brand,  of  whom  this  request 
was  made,  protested  with  ceremonious 


courtesy  against  this  sudden  return ;  but 
the  eccentric  physician  responded : 

"  I  have  my  sick  to  see  to.  I  must  go, 
but  desire  first  some  conversation  with 
yourself,  sir." 

"Some  conversation,  sir ?"  repeated 
Colonel  Brand. 

"  In  private." 

"Willingly,  sir." 

And  the  colonel  led  the  way  to  the 
library,  closing  the  door  behind  them. 

Dr.  Vandyke  came  to  the  point  with 
his  habitual  directness. 

"  Do  you  know  that  two  members  of 
your  household  are  as  good  as  dying  ?  " 
he  said. 

"  Two  members  I  —  good  Heavens, 
sir!  You  mean — " 

"Your  daughter  Honoria,  and  the 
child  Meta." 

Colonel  Brand  looked  inexpressibly 
shocked;  but,  before  he  could  reply,  the 
physician  continued  in  the  same  abrupt, 
matter-of-fact  voice : 

"First,  to  speak  of  Meta.  She 
*  caught  cold,'  as  fools  say,  at  the  gov 
ernor's  ball,  where,  after  the  mad  fashion 
of  young  ladies  in  general,  she  went  in  a 
gossamer  dress,  and  shoes  as  thin  as 
paper — that  is  to  say,  her  lungs,  never 
strong,  became  diseased  —  the  disease 
was  not  crushed  in  its  infancy,  as  per 
haps  might  have  been  done ;  and  the 
consequence  is,  that  the  projected  wed 
ding  of  your  daughter  Honoria  promises 
to  be  followed  by  a  funeral." 

"  Your  intelligence  deeply  distresses 
me !  "  exclaimed  Colonel  Brand.  "  I 
had  not  supposed — " 

"  That  things  were  so  bad,  you  would 
say?" 

"I  had  not,  sir." 

"  Well,  I  put  you  in  possession  of  the 
exact  state  of  the  case." 

Colonel  Brand  knit  his  brows.  Sud 
denly  he  turned  to  the  physician. 

«  But—"  he  said. 

"You  mean  that  Meta  is  not  Miss 
Brand?" 


98 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"  You  spoke  also  of  Miss  Brand,  sir- 
made,  if  I  understood  you  aright,  a  very 
surprising  statement  in  regard  to  her.'1'1 

"  I  did.  I  said  that  Honoria  Brand 
was  as  good  as  dying — as  bad,  I  should 
have  said ;  for  death,  whatever  fanciful 
people  say,  is  bad,  very  bad — and  not 
good  in  any  sense." 

"  You  astound  me,  sir !  Honoria  ill? 
I  was  aware  that  the  dissipations  of  the 
capital,  extremely  late  hours,  and  excite 
ment,  had— 

"  Colonel  Brand,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke. 
"  Sir !  " 

"  Do  you  consider  me  a  fool  ?  " 
"A  fool?     Really,  sir,  this  conversa 
tion,  you  will  permit  me  to  say,  is  assum 
ing  an  unusual — a  very  unusual  charac 
ter  !  " 

"  Because  I  speak  to  the  point ;  and 
speaking  to  the  point,  I  grant  you,  is  un 
usual  in  this  world  of  froth  and  circum 
locution  !  I  say  that  you  either  regard 
me  as  a  ninny,  or  you  wish  to  avoid  hear 
ing  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you — since 
you  know,  as  well  as  I  know,  that  Ho- 
noria's  condition  is  due  in  no  measure 
whatever  to  either  late  hours,  dissipa 
tion,  or  excitement  in  society." 

"  Indeed,  sir,"   said  Colonel  Brand, 

drawing  himself  up  with  some  hauteur, 

"  you  are  very  good  to  take  the  trouble 

of  informing  yourself  so  profoundly  upon 

the  private  affairs  of  my  family." 

"  I  have  the  right  to  do  so." 

"  What  right,  sir  ?  " 

"  The  right  of  a  man  who  was  once 

in  love  with  your  wife,  and  who  swore 

to  her  when  the  last  parting  came — when 

she  was  about  to  marry — that  if  ever  she 

were  in  trouble,  and  I  could  help  her,  1 

would  speak  out,  caring  for  nothing,  and 

be  a  friend  to  her !  " 

The  announcement  seemed  wellnigh 
to  take  away  the  stately  colonel's  breath 
He  gazed  at  the  now  fiery  Dr.  Vandyke 
who  was  glaring  at  him  fixedly,  with  a 
mixture  of  astonishment  and  hauteur 
wonderful  to  see. 


"  You  know  now  why  I  am  meddling 
n  your  family  affairs,"  said  the  eccentric 
physician.  "  You  call  it  meddling — well, 
!  reply  that  meddling  is — meddling  :  and 
!  am  simply  affording  you  information — 
aying  before  you  the  result  of  a  medical 
diagnosis,  made  last  night,  of  your 
daughter's  condition.  Act  as  you  please 
— it  is  no  part  of  my  business  to  try  the 
pathetic.  I  tell  you  that  Honoria  Brand 
s  the  victim  of  what  is  called,  in  the 
mummery  of  society,  a  decline — that  is 
:o  say,  she  is  undermined  by  a  slow  fever 
which  is  going  to  kill  her ;  and  the 
fever  is  due,  neither  to  dissipation,  late 
hours,  nor  excitement,  but  to  the  pros 
pect  of  marrying  Lord  Ruthven,  when 
she  loves  her  cousin,  Edmund  Innis." 

The  words  were  blurted  out  with  lit 
tle  ceremony.  Dr.  Vandyke  was,  evi 
dently,  either  too  much  in  earnest  to 
care  for  forms,  or  aimed,  by  the  very 
rudeness  of  his  address,  to  strike  more 
heavily,  and  produce  the  desired  effect. 
His  words,  indeed,  seemed  to  impress 
Colonel  Brand  strangely.  He  turned  red 
and  then  pale,  his  lip  trembled  slightly, 
and  he  cleared  his  throat  twice  before 
replying. 

"  Your  very — ahem !— extraordinary 
communication,"  he  at  length  said,  with 
affected  coolness  and  ceremony,  which 
his  agitation  belied,  "  leaves  me  at  a  loss, 
sir,  how  to  reply.  I  am,  then,  to  regard 
this  communication  as  due  to — 

"  My  affection  for  Lady  Brand  ?  Yes. 
Let  that  be  stated  plainly.  I  was  her 
suitor — a  poor  suitor. '  She  married  you. 
Well,  I  said  nothing;  did  not  make  a 
fool  of  myself  by  falling  into  a  rage.  I 
said,  '  A  woman  chooses  her  own  desti 
ny — or  has  it  chosen  for  her — I  will  be 
this  one's  friend  in  spite  of  all ; '  and  I 
prove  myself  her  friend  by  saying  to  you, 
'  If  you  persist  in  this  design  of  forcing 
your  daughter  into  the  arms  of  Ruthven, 
he  will  have  a  corpse  for  a  bride  1  ' ' 

Dr.  Vandyke  rose  as  he  spoke,  and 
added : 


DOCTOR   VANDYKE'S   DIAGNOSIS. 


99 


"I  have  said  all  that  I  intended  to 
say,  except  to  communicate  a  slight  cir 
cumstance  of  which  you  may  be  igno 
rant." 

"  Your  slight  circumstance,  if  it 
please  you,  sir,"  said  Colonel  Brand, 
with  sudden  ire,  "  your  chivalric  espou 
sal  of  the  interests  of  my  family,  leads  me 
to  anticipate  newer  and  more  startling 
intelligence !  " 

"  Pride — pride !  "  growled  Dr.  Van 
dyke,  sotto  voce.  "  This  figure  in  buck 
ram,  dubbed  'colonel,'  is  a  simulacrum 
worked  by  that  mainspring !  Pull  the 
string,  he  jumps  to  it !  " 

"You  say,  sir — " 

"  That  I  am  a  fool  to  come  here,  and 
give  you  the  result  of  my  diagnosis  of 
your  daughter's  condition.  I  am  an  in 
truder — a  meddler !  Well,  at  least,  you 
know  all  now.  I  tell  you  that  Ilonoria 
Brand  is  sinking  day  by  day  under  this 
terror — that  her  life  is  not  worth  twelve 
months'  purchase ;  that  she  loves  one 
man  with  absolute  passion,  and  you  think 
to  force  her,  without  fatal  results,  into 
the  embrace  of  another!  Do  so,  then — 
you  are  master !  I  am  not  here  to  beg 
you  to  do  this  or  to  do  that.  I  have  no 
more  to  say — yes,  one  word  more,  to  in 
form  you  of  the  trifling  circumstance  to 
which  allusion  was  made  by  me  just 
now.  Your  proposed  son-in-law,  my 
Lord  Ruthven,  is  mad." 

"  Mad !  " 

"  I  use  the  colloquial  term.  Insane, 
if  you  prefer  the  word — /call  him  mad." 

Colonel  Brand  seemed  utterly  as 
tounded.  * 

"  And  what  proof  have  you  to  allege 
in  support  of  this  very  astounding — this 
most  absurd  statement,  sir  ?  " 

"  None  but  the  fact — I  say  he  is  mad ; 
and,  if  you  doubt  it  now,  you  will  ascer 
tain  the  fact  hereafter.  Do  not  question 
me  further!  I  have  already  said  more 
than  becomes  the  physician  who  has  at 
tended  a  patient.  The  physician  and  the 
priest  are  bound  to  silence.  Act  as  seems 


best  to  you — for  myself,  I  wish  you  good- 
day,  sir !  " 

And  Dr.  Vandyke  abruptly  left  the 
room  —  he  had  already  taken  leave  of 
everybody — and  hastened  to  his  coach, 
which  he  entered,  slamming  the  door. 

The  vehicle  rolled  down  the  hill  rap 
idly,  and  passed  through  the  great  : 

"Toward   Williamsburg,   sir?" 
the  driver,  drilled  to  ask  those  directions 
which  Dr.  Vandyke  never  gave. 

"No!  "  exclaimed  the  physician,  al 
most  furiously — "  to  the  mountain  !  " 

And  he  pointed  westward. 

The  obedient  Jehu,  without  a  word, 
turned  his  leaders  to  the  right,  and  fol 
lowed  the  road  which  Phil  Gary  had 
pursued  in  his  ride  to  Innis's  dwelling. 
No  snow  had  fallen  since  the  youth's 
ride,  and,  save  where  the  wind  had  ob 
literated  the  tracks,  the  footprints  of  his 
horse  were  still  visible.  But  Dr.  Van 
dyke  seemed  perfectly  familiar  with  the 
route. 

The  coach  ascended  the  mountain- 
road,  drawn  rapidly  by  four  powerful 
horses,  which  plunged  through  the  deep 
snow,  snorting  and  smoking. 

"  A  cheerful  landscape  !  "  muttered 
Dr.  Vandyke,  blowing  his  fingers  to  keep 
them  warm.  "  To  live  in  this  elevated 
wilderness,  and  have  your  sweetheart 
about  to  marry  another — ough  !  "  And 
the  physician  knit  his  brows,  and  fell 
back,  shouting  to  his  coachman  :  "  Fast 
er  ! — there  is  the  house  I  am  going  to  !  " 

The  small  lodge  of  Innis  was  indeed 
visible  beneath  the  great  pines ;  and  in 
fifteen  minutes  more  the  coach  had 
stopped  before  it. 

Dr.  Vandyke  got  out,  and  waded 
through  the  snow,  and  knocked. 

The  door  opened  as  he  touched  it. 
Innis  was  seen  standing  on  the  thresh 
old. 

"  Welcome,  doctor !  "  he  said  ;  "  I  saw 
you  coming  up  the  mountain,  and  was 
awaiting  you." 

"  It  is  well,"  returned  Dr.  Vandyke, 


100 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


looking  at  the  young  man  from  under  his 
bushy  brows.  "  I  had  sworn  to  break 
down  this  door,  if  kicking  would  break 
it  down !  " 

And  he  entered. 


XLIV. 

THE    LETTEE. 

COLONEL  BRAND  had  closed  the  door 
of  the  library  behind  Dr.  Vandyke,  re 
seated  himself  with  evident  marks  of 
agitation  in  his  great  arm-chair,  and  was 
sunk  in  troubled  thought,  when  a  timid 
knock  was  heard.  He  said,  harshly, 
u  Come  in !  "  and  Lady  Brand  entered. 

She  was  pale,  and  trembled  slightly, 
for  Colonel  Brand  had  achieved  that 
poor  triumph  of  making  all  around  him 
afraid  of  him.  His  wife  was  no  excep 
tion — she  stood  in  awe  of  the  stiff  per 
sonage  ;  but  now  she  had  evidently 
made  up  her  mind  to  brave  his  ire. 

''Dr.  Vandyke  leaves  us  in  displeas 
ure,  I  fear,"  she  said,  approaching  and 
seating  herself.  "  Is  it  not  in  consequence 
of  a  conversation  in  reference  to  Hono 
ria?" 

"  Yes,  madam !  "  snapped  Colonel 
Brand,  losing  all  his  Jiauteur. 

"Oh,  tell  me!  Did  he  not  urge  you 
to  break  off  our  poor  child's  marriage 
with  Lord  Ruthven  ? " 

"  Yes,  madam!  " 

"  Upon  the  ground  that — that — she 
loved  Edmund  Innis,  and  shrunk  from 
Lord  Ruthven  ? " 

"  Yes,  madam  !  " 

These  three  "Yes,  madams!  "  were 
uttered  with  increasing  vehemence. 

Colonel  Brand  had  grown  fiery,  and 
looked  dangerous. 

"Then — oh!  then! — 'tis  your  own 
poor  child,  remember —  1  " 

"  Stop,  madam  !"  exclaimed  Colonel 
Brand;  "this  interview  which  you  are 
good  enough  to  inflict  upon  me  at  a  very 
inopportune  moment — I  say  a  very  in 


opportune  moment,  madam ! — has  pro 
ceeded  sufficiently  far!  It  is  unneces 
sary  to  continue  it,  and,  to  speak  plainly, 
I  desire  you  to  be  silent !  I  am  the  master 
in  this  house,  for  the  present  at  least, 
and  I  will  not  have  my  will  disputed  in 
consequence  of  the  underhand  schemes 
— t^ie  meddling  interference — of  this  Dr. 
Vandyke — this  dwarf,  who  had  the  in 
solence — yes,  the  insolence,  madam  ! — 
to  inform  me  that — that — lie  had  been, 
forsooth,  once  upon  a  time,  your  suitor 
— that  is  to  say,  my  rival !  " 

The  poor  lady's  head  sank,  and  her 
frame  trembled. 

"  There  was  no  wrong  done,"  she 
murmured,  a  slight  color  appearing  in 
the  thin  cheek.  '"I  was  a  girl,  and  Dr. 
Vandyke  was  a  young  gentleman  highly 
respected." 

"  We  will  cease  to  discuss  your  for 
mer  affairs  of  the  heart,  if  it  please  you, 
madam !  " 

"  Willingly,"  said  Lady  Brand,  s,adly. 
"I  designed  no  allusion  whatever  to 
them.  But  it  is  my  duty,  and  I  must  per 
form  it,  however  it  may  excite  your  dis 
pleasure — it  is  my  duty  as  a  mother,  to 
say  that  I  think  Honoria  is  wasting 
away,  will  die,  if — 

The  faltering  voice  here  quite  broke 
down. 

"  Oh,  do  not  insist  on  this  mar 
riage  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

Colonel  Brand  was  not  as  completely 
master  of  himself  as  he  fancied.  The 
trembling  voice  shook  his  stern  coldness. 
Wheeling  round  and  facing  the  lady,  he 
exclaimed : 

"You  would,  then,  have  me  break 
my  plighted  word  !  " 

"  You  did  not  know  of  this  terrible 
result  when  you  gave  your  word." 

"  This  is  sophistry,  madam  ! — the  jug 
glery  of  reasoning,  which  smooths  over  a 
breach  of  faith,  because  to  keep  it  is  not 
agreeable  or  desirable  !  No,  madam !  I 
have  sworn  that  Honoria  shall  marry  Lord 
Ruthven,  and  I  will  keep  rny  oath !  " 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE  PROPOSES  MAKING  A  NIGHT  OF  IT. 


Lady  Brand  bowed  her  head,  and 
fixed  her  eyes,  red  with  weeping,  upon 
the  carpet. 

"  So  be  it,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice  ; 
"but  if  Honoria  dies,  I  shall  die  too." 

Colonel  Brand's  features  contracted, 
but  he  only  replied : 
"  I  must  keep  faith." 
Lady  Brand    raised    her  head   and 
looked  at  him. 

"  Even  if  he— Lord  Euthven — exhib 
its  a  desire  to  retire  from  the  affair  ?  " 

"  '  Lord  Ruthven  retire  !  '  Lord  Ruth- 
ven  exhibit  a  desire  to — "  Your  mean 
ing,  madam?" 

"  I  mean  that  Lord  Ruthven  treats 
our  daughter  and  ourselves  with  scant 
courtesy." 

"  You  would  say — " 
"  That  a  month,  wellnigh,  has  passed 
since  we  have  heard  from  him,  and  he 
has  not  visited  Rivanna  at  all. 

Colonel  Brand  turned  pale.  He  had 
required  no  notice  of  the  fact,  but  had 
avoided  all  allusion  to  it. 

"  Something  has  prevented  him — the 
mails  are  irregular,"  he  said,  knitting 
his  brows. 

"  Other  letters  from  the  capital  arrive 
promptly." 

Colonel  Brand  was  silent.  He  had 
not  been  prepared  for  this  direct  discus 
sion  of  a  circumstance  which  had  secret 
ly  stung  him,  and  had  no  reply  ready. 

"I  thank  Heaven,"  said  Lady  Brand, 
"  that  Lord  Ruthven  has  not  visited  us, 
and  am  even  pleased  at  his  not  having 
written.      O  Colonel  Brand  !     Honoria's 
apathy  is  fearful  —  worse  a    thousand 
times  than  agitation — than  despair !  " 
The  father  groaned. 
"  And  all  comes  from  this  infatuation 
for  a  boy— a  curly  pate — this  Edmund 
Innis !  " 

"  'Twas  natural ! — he  is  a  generous 
and  noble  boy." 

"  You  would  say  that  he  is  generous 
to  us!  But  you  know  well  my  resolu 
tion,  madam  !  I  say  this  '  noble  boy  ' 


has  produced  our  household  misery,  and, 
by  Heaven  !  Honoria  shall  marry  Ruth 
ven  if  only  "to  teach  him  a  lesson! — 
Speak  no  further  of  this,  madam !  I 
have  sworn,  and  will  keep  my  oath! 
Honoria  is  promised  to  Lord  Ruthven, 
and  he  shall  have  her,  if  I  am  alive  to 
give  her  away !  This  '  apathy  '  you  speak 
of  is  the  folly  of  a  child !  Once  Lady 
Ruthven — a  countess,  madam ! — she  will 
forget  all  else.  Now,  no  more  of  this.  I 
am  resolved !  " 

Lady  Brand  rose  and  placed  her 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

As  she  did  so,  a  servant  entered  and 
handed  respectfully  to  his  master  the 
bag  containing  the  mail.  The  first  letter 
he  drew  forth  was  one  from  Lord  Ruth 
ven,  which  he  opened  and  hastily  pe 
rused. 

"As  I  supposed,  madam,1'  he  said, 
"Lord  Ruthven  has  been  ill — is  so  still. 
But  he  expresses  an  earnest  hope  that 
his  recovery  will  be  sufficiently  safe  to 
enable  him  to  claim  Honoria's  hand  upon 
the  day  appointed  for  the  ceremony. 
See  the  letter." 

But  Lady  Brand  made  a  movement 
with  her  thin  hand. 

"I  do  not  desire  to  read  it," she  said, 
and  I  must  return  to  Honoria." 

She  left  the  room  as  she  spoke,  utter 
ing  a  low  sob  as  she  disappeared. 

The  sob  was  echoed  by  a  groan  from 
the  proud  gentleman,  who  sank  back-  in 
iis  chair — bent,  shrunken,  and  looking 
ten  years  older  than  an  hour  before. 


XLV. 

IN   WHICH   DR.    VANDYKE    PROPOSES    TO 
MAKE    A    NIGHT    OF    IT. 

DR.  VANDYKE  walked  into  the  small 
itting-room  of  Innis's  mountain  lodge, 
with  the  air  of  a  gentleman  \vh<>  t'»-<.-ls 
perfectly  at  home  ;  and  posting  himself 
with  his  back  to  the  tire,  his  slender  legs 
wide  apart,  and  his  voluminous  skirts 


102 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


gathered  under  Ms  arms,  looked  around 
with  interest  and  some  curiosity. 

The  room  was  small  and  low-pitched, 
but  with  an  ample  fireplace,  in  which  a 
fire  of  heavy  logs  was  quietly  burning, 
the  mass  supported  on  old-fashioned 
brass  andirons,  with  grotesquely-carved 
heads,  resembling  the  ancient  masks. 
The  carpet  had  once  been  superb,  with 
bouquets  of  flowers  in  their  natural  col 
ors,  but  was  now  quite  faded,  and,  where 
the  legs  of  the  small  square  table  in  the 
centre  of  the  room  rested  upon  it,  was 
worn  with  holes  which  showed  the  floor 
beneath.  The  furniture  of  the  room 
was  very  old,  but  had  evidently  belonged 
to  persons  of  taste  and  elegance.  It 
consisted  of  a  large  carved  sofa  of  some 
dark  wood  covered  with  rich  cloth,  and 
an  old  sideboard  with  worn  silver,  some 
chairs  with  elaborately  -  ornamented 
backs  and  dark  cushions,  two  large  arm 
chairs  on  each  side  of -the  fireplace,  a 
venerable  harpsichord,  and  a  tall  clock 
in  one  corner,  reaching  from  the  floor  to 
the  ceiling,  with  a  great  white  face,  black 
hands,  and  colored  representations  of  the 
sun,  moon,  and  stars,  above  the  face.  On 
the  walls,  yellow  with  age,  were  a  num 
ber  of  engravings  representing  the  battle 
of  Blenheim,  and  other  scenes  in  the 
wars  of  Marlborough,  wherein  the 
roughly  -  engraved  figures  of  wooden- 
looking  human  beings  lay  about,  and 
automata-like  horses  pranced  in  the  cav 
alry-charge  ;  and  on  each  side  of  the 
mantel-piece,  which  was  very  tall  and 
supported  a  few  books,  was  a  comic  en 
graving  by  Hogarth,  the  one  represent 
ing  a  cock-fight,  and  the  other  the  idle 
apprentice  playing  upon  a  tombstone. 
There  were  but  two  portraits  in  the  room 
— those  of  Innis's  father  and  mother. 
These  faced  each  other  on  the  eastern 
and  western  walls,  and  represented,  the 
first  a  gentleman  of  distinguished  bearing, 
his  smiling  face  half  covered  by  a  flowing 
peruke  ;  the  other  a  lady  of  great  beauty 
and  very  high-spirited  appearance — the 


frames  of  dark  oak,  the  canvas  dingy. 
In  one  corner,  a  fowling-piece  leaned, 
supporting  a  bird-bag  of  netted  twine; 
and  near  this  a  small  bookcase  stood 
against  the  wall,  half  filled  with  odd 
volumes  in  brown  leather,  of  histories, 
poems,  romances,  and  treatises  on  Eng 
lish  law. 

Dr.  Vandyke  took  in  these  details  of 
the  apartment  with  a  comprehensive 
glance ;  drew  a  huge  watch  from  his 
fob,  and  consulted  it,  glancing  as  he  did 
so  through  the  window  at  the  sun,  which 
was  already  declining;  and,  abruptly 
turning  to  Innis,  said  : 

u  I  have  come  to  dine  with  you,  and 
perhaps  to  spend  the  night." 

"  Thanks,  doctor,"  said  Innis,  who 
was  pale,  and  spoke  in  a  dull,  apathetic 
voice.  "  I  am  fortunate  enough  to  be 
able  to  entertain  you,  and  to  provide  for 
your  horses  too.  My  old  servant  will 
see  that  the  horses  and  driver  want 
nothing." 

The  young  man  went  as  he  spoke  in 
to  an  adjoining  room,  through  the  door 
of  which  Dr.  Vandyke  saw  a  neat  Led  ; 
and,  coming  back  in  a  few  moments,  said : 

"All  will  be  attended  to,  doctor — 
there  is  old  Ned  showing  the  way  to  the 
stables  ;  and  now,  welcome  again  to  my 
poor  home.  I  had  not  expected  to  see 
you  in  so  remote  a  spot." 

"  That's  natural,  and  I  am  not  quite 
sure  of  my  own  identity ;  but  I  believe 
the  individual  who  has  the  honor  to  ad 
dress  you  is  Dr.  Julius  Vandyke." 

"  You  were  at  Bivanna,  no  doubt, 
and  took  the  fancy — " 

"  Stop  all  that  roundabout  talk,  my 
young  friend,"  said  the  doctor,  abruptly  ; 
"let  us  throw  ceremony  to  the  dogs,  and 
come  to  business.  You  are  breaking 
your  heart  about  Ilonoria  Brand — come, 
deny  it,  if  you  can  !  " 

An  expression  of  great  wretchedness 
came  to  the  young  man's  face. 

"  Who  am  I,  to  presume  to  look  up  to 
Miss  Brand  ?  "  he  said,  bitterly. 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE  PROPOSES  MAKING  A  NIGHT  OF  IT 


103 


"  You  are  a  man — and  a  gentleman, 
too,  if  there  is  any  difference!  I  say 
you  are  making  yourself  unhappy  about 
a  girl,  and  I  have  come  here  to  have  a 
little  talk  with  you  on  that  subject." 

Innis  shook  his  head  gloomily. 

"What  good  will  come  of  it?"  he 
said.  "Let  the  ashes  cover  it  —  you 
know  the  warning  of  the  Latin  poet: 
4  Do  not  disturb  the  ashes  that  conceal 
the  hidden  fire.' " 

"I  know  a  little  Latin,  but  I  choose 
to  think  and  resolve  for  myself.  I  mean 
to  talk  about  this  affair — to  talk  to  my 
heart's  content !  But  I  p'ropose  to  dine 
first,  as  I  perceive  the  odor  of  that  meal, 
and  welcome  it." 

The  door  opened  as  Dr.  Vandyke 
spoke,  and  an  old  family  servant  with 
gray  hair,  and  a  profoundly  deferential 
bearing,  made  his  appearance,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  set  the  table.  He  then  disap 
peared,  but  soon  served  dinner,  which 
was  plain  but  appetizing.  As  the  host 
and  his  guest  sat  down,  a  knock  was 
heard  at  the  outer  door;  the  doctor's 
driver  appeared  with  a  leather-covered 
case,  and  this  case  the  doctor  at  once 
opened,  producing  a  brace  of  heavy, 
square  bottles,  through  whose  transpar 
ent  sides  a  ruby-colored  liquid  was  seen 
to  agitate  itself,  as  the  bottles  were  de 
posited  on  the  table. 

"  Always  travel  with  my  liquor-case," 
said  the  doctor.  "  Rum — and  superb !  " 

He  pushed  the  square  bottle  to  Innis, 
who  poured  out  some,  but  scarcely 
touched  the  glass  with  his  lips. 

"  Come!  drink— eat !  "  cried  Dr.  Van 
dyke,  with  his  mouth  full  of  ham. 

"  I  have  no  appetite  to-day,  doctor," 
was  the  reply. 

"  And  had  none  yesterday,  I'd  be 
willing  to  swear.  Such  is  the  effect  of 
this  abominable  love-business." 

The  doctor  continued  to  growl 
throughout  the  repast,  in  which  Innis 
rather  affected  to  join  than  took  any 
real  part ;  and  in  due  time  the  cloth  was 


removed,  and  host  and  guest  drew  their 
chairs  to  the  fire. 

"  This  is  comfortable,"  said  Dr.  Van 
dyke,  leaning  forward  and  rubbing  his 
knees,  with  a  glance  through  the  win 
dow  at  the  sun,  about  to  disappear  be 
hind  the  mountain.  "  Snow  a  foot  deep 
without,  but  a  good  fire  within  of  hick 
ory-logs  that  warms  one  through  and 
through  !  Hear  the  wind,  how  it  howls ! 
Faith!  I'll  brew  a  bowl  of  punch  to 
crown  the  victory  over  Boreas,  and  we'll 
make  a  night  of  it !  " 

As  he  spoke,  the  doctor  rose  and 
pounced  upon  a  great  bowl  of  porcelain 
on  the  sideboard ;  at  the  same  moment 
the  old  major-domo  appeared  with  a 
japanned  waiter  containing  a  silver  cof 
fee-pot,  and  some  small  cups  of  exquisite 
ly  thin  china,  richly  colored. 

"Coffee!"  cried  the  doctor;  "how 
now,  thou  Sybarite!  But  if  coffee— then 
hot  water !  Some  hot  water,  my  aged 
friend  ;  I  see  before  me  the  sugar  !  " 

With  profound  deference  the  old  ser 
vant  brought  in  hot  water;  the  doctor 
proceeded  to  brew  the  punch,  which  he 
subsequently  dealt  out  with  a  silver 
ladle;  and,  having  informed  his  host  that 
he  preferred  firelight  to  candles,  the  ec 
centric  guest  resumed  his  arm-chair  be 
fore  the  fire,  rubbed  his  legs  with  an  air 
of  enjoyment,  and  said  : 

"I  beg  to  offer  a  toast!  To  our 
common  and  highly-esteemed  friend  the 
most  excellent  lady,  who  once  came 
near  espousing  the  amiable  Julius  Van 
dyke!" 

"With  these  words,  the  amiable  Julius 
Vandyke  raised  his  ponderous  feet, 
placed  them  upon  the  cross-piece  of  his 
chair,  elevated  thus  his  knees  very  near 
ly  to  the  level  of  his  eyes,  and,  leaning 
his  head  back,  swallowed  his  glass  of 
punch  at  one  gulp.  Innis  had  never  lost 
his  ap&thetio  expression.  He  now  s.-ii<l  : 

"  The  lady  you  were  near  espousing 
once,  doctor  ?  " 

"  Lady  Brand." 


104 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"Ah!  You  were  once  an  admirer 
of  my  aunt  ?  " 

"  At  least  I  asked  her  to  marry  me, 
in  this  very  room." 

"In  this  room?" 

"Hold!  She  was  sitting  yonder.  The 
sun  was  setting,  and  the  shadow  of  the 
crooked  pine-tree  there  was  thrown 
upon  the  face  of  the  old  clock.  It  was 
half-past  six  in  the  evening,  I  remem 
ber." 

Innis  looked  at  the  eccentric  being 
before  him,  who  was  now  clasping  his 
arms  around  his  drawn-up  knees. 

"  You  surprise  me,  doctor,"  he  said. 
"  I  did  know— " 

"  That  this  house  was  familiar  to  me? 
Perfectly;  and,  as  we  have  plenty  of 
time  to-night,  suppose  I  tell  you  a  little 
of  what  the  poets  would  call  the  'ro 
mance  of  my  existence  ? ' ' 

Innis  inclined  his  head ;  and,  refilling 
his  glass  with  a  bacchanalian  air,  Dr. 
Vandyke  said : 


XLVI. 

THE   KOMANGE    OF   DK.    VANDYKE. 

"I  AM,  correctly  speaking,  not  Dr. 
Vandyke,  but  the  Baron  Julius  von 
Dyke,  a  German  by  birth,  and  belonging 
to  a  family  whose  representatives  held 
important  commands  in  the  armies  of 
the  Emperor  Charles  V.  As  I  am  a 
person,  however,  of  democratical  opin 
ions,  I  do  not  value  the  von  in  my  name 
a  farthing,  and  will  sell  you  my  patent 
of  baron  for  sixpence.  I  will  not  en 
large  upon  the  former  importance  of  my 
family,  which,  in  time,  grew  poorer — 
then  poorer — then  landless.  Whereupon 
the  baron,  my  father,  went  to  London ; 
was  induced  to  emigrate  to  Virginia; 
brought  me,  his  only  son,  with  him ;  and 
died,  leaving  me  at  twenty-five  possessed 
of  a  small,  a  very  small,  estate,  but,  what 
was  better,  an  education  as  a  physician, 
the  result  of  study  at  Gottingen. 


"  Well,  when  my  father  died,  I  found 
myself  quite  alone,  and  did  not  much 
relish  the  lonely  life  of  a  country  physi 
cian  in  Charles  City,  where  my  small 
estate  lay;  so  I  disposed  of  the  land,  re 
moved  to  Williamsburg,  and  announced 
that  I  was  ready  to  administer  pills  and 
draughts  to  the  inhabitants  of  that  thriv 
ing  capital. 

"My  success  was  not  encouraging. 
The  children  ran  behind  their  mother's 
dresses  when  I  made  my  appearance ; 
and  once  or  twice  it  was  intimated  to  me 
that,  in  certain  cases  connected  with  one 
branch  of  the  leech's  art,  my  personal 
appearance  was  calculated  to  produce  un 
fortunate  results.  In  fact,  my  young 
friend,  I  was  hideously  ugly — as  ugly  as  I 
am  at  this  moment,  or  very  nearly — and, 
in  consequence  thereof,  there  was  noth 
ing  in  the  world  that  I  admired  so  much 
as  personal  beauty.  This  became,  at  last, 
almost  a  mania  with  me,  and  I  would 
place  myself  at  the  window  of  my  poor 
lodgings  on  Gloucester  Street — a  small 
room  on  the  second  floor  of  a  small 
house — that  which  you  one  day  entered 
with  me — and,  from  this  elevated  perch, 
I  would  watch  the  passers-by  on  the 
street,  riveting  my  eyes,  with  a  passion 
ate,  craving  admiration  on  the  beautiful 
forms  moving  to  and  fro  before  me. 
Not  a  white,  bending  neck,  seen  beneath 
a  blue  scarf,  not  a  slender  foot  with 
arched  instep  in  its  high-heeled  shoe,  or 
graceful  figure,  undulating  as  it  moved 
on,  but  filled  me  with  delight  and  admi 
ration.  And — not  with  that  material 
sentiment  which  you  might  imagine — 
all  was  etherealized  for  me  ;  beauty  was 
poetry,  and  I  enjoyed  this  beauty  as  a 
painter  enjoys  the  beauty  of  a  summer 
day,  when  white  clouds  float  against  a 
blue  sky,  over  emerald  fields  and  for 
ests!  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  stopped,  to  utter  a  short, 
grating  laugh. 

«    "  Poetical,  you  see,  my  young  friend. 
Try  the  punch!     No?     Well,  to  go  on 


THE   ROMANCE   OF  DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


105 


with  my  romantic  narrative  :  My  great 
est  misfortune  was  to  have  inherited  a 
mirror  which  afforded  me  a  full-length 
view  of  my  own  exquisite  proportions. 
This  mirror  was  fixed  against  the  wall 
between  the  windows  of  my  lodging, 
and  I  had  only  to  turn  my  head  to  see 
my  own  image.  I  did  turn  my  head  of 
ten,  and  chiefly  after  following  with  my 
eyes  some  handsome  young  cavalier  on 
his  prancing  steed — some  radiant  young 
Apollo,  with  gracefully-fashioned  figure, 
slender,  erect,  and  elegant,  straight 
limbs,  rounded  where  they  pressed 
against  the  saddle,  attractive  features, 
chestnut  curls — some  young  Adonis,  in 
a  word,  compared  with  whom  I  was  a 
satyr  of  waste  places — a  monster.  For, 
what  did  I  behold  in  that  fatal  mirror  ? 
A  being  scarcely  human.  A  thing,  let 
us  say,  about  four  feet  and  a  half  in 
height,  splay-footed,  -thin-legged,  with 
enormous  chest,  the  arms  of  a  windmill, 
a  head  like  a  pumpkin,  sunken  eyes,  wide 
mouth;  no  neck— a  fearful,  frightful  Imus 
naturae,  sent  into  the  world  to  appall 
children,  and  make  the  dogs  bark — ha! 
ha! 

"  Well,  things  went  on  thus  for  years, 
when  one  day  I  made  the  acquaintance 
of  two  young  ladies  on  a  visit  to  the 
capital :  one  was  afterward  your  moth 
er,  the  other  your  aunt.  It  was  your 
aunt  I  fell  in  love  with,  and  this  came 
about  in  an  accidental  manner — if  there 
be  any  accidents  in  the  world.  Colonel 
Seaton,  the  uncle  of  the  young  ladies, 
was  addicted  to  high  living,  and,  one 
day,  on  returning  from  a  grand  dinner, 
he  was  taken  with  an  indigestion,  which 
was  near  putting  an  end  to  him.  The 
most  prominent  physician  in  the  capital 
was  sent  for  in  great  haste,  but  was 
absent.  The  consequence  was,  that  I 
was  called  in  to  attend  Colonel  Seaton, 
and  succeeded  in  relieving  him  so  expe- 
ditiously  that  he  conceived  a  high  opinion  ! 
of  my  abilities,  and  invited  me  to  visit  | 
at  his  house  as  a  friend.  This  offer  I  ! 


gladly  accepted ;  and,  as  Colonel  Seaton 
had  known -my  father,  the  baron,  I  soon 
became  a  familiar  friend  of  the  family, 
and — fell  in  love  with  your  aunt,  Lady 
Brand." 

Dr.  Vandyke  stopped  suddenly,  and " 
plunging  his  hand    into  the    capacious 
pocket  of  his  great-coat,  which  he  per 
sisted  in  keeping  on,  drew  forth  a  huge 
pipe  and  a  handful  of  tobacco. 

"  It  is  an  extraordinary  evidence  of 
absent-mindedness  in  me  to  have  forgot 
ten  my  pipe,"  he  said.  "Is  the  world 
coming  to  an  end  ?  Come,  sweetest  sol 
ace,  come !  " 

And,  grinning  amiably,  the  doctor 
filled  the  great  bowl,  picked  up  a  coal 
with  the  tongs,  lit  his  pipe,  and  began 
to  puff  out  clouds  of  snowy  smoke. 

"  You  won't  smoke  ?  No  ?  Well,  to 
continue  my  interesting  narrative :  Where 
did  I  stop  ?  Oh,  at  the  commencement 
of  my  charming  little  romance — what 
I  call,  elegantly,  'the  romance  of  Dr. 
Vandyke  '  —  my  love  -  affair  with  the 
young  beauty  from  the  mountains — from 
Kivanna,  in  a  word." 

And  the  doctor  darted  a  keen  glance 
at  Innis,  who  remained  cold  and  apa 
thetic. 

"  'Twas  an  absolute  passion  I  con 
ceived  for  the  young  lady,"  said  the  doc 
tor,  smoking  away  in  the  most  noncha 
lant  manner,  "  and,  after  all,  my  young 
friend,  there  is  nothing  so  strong  as  what  • 
is  called  love.  Nothing  hurts,  for  a  short 
time,  like  disappointment  therein !  I 
will  not  enlarge  upon  the  charming  de 
tails  of  my  affair,  but  will  state  what 
may  appear  to  you,  since  it  so  appears  to 
me,  an  astounding  circumstance  —  the 
fact  that  the  lady  of  my  affections  was 
not  wholly  unkind  nor  cold  to  her  ad 
mirer,  the  present  narrator.  Ellen — you 
call  her  Aunt  Ellen  now,  but  slit-  was 
then  a  blooming  beauty,  too  youthful 
for  auntship — was  touched,  it  seems,  by 
the  devotion  of  the  poor  physician  who 
evidently  adored  her.  She  blushed  when 


106 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


Splay-foot  entered :  actually  faltered  in 
her  address  when  she  spoke  to  Blear- 
eyes  :  and,  one  day,  the  presumptuous 
Wide-mouth  said,  '  I  love  you  !  '  —  at 
which  she  no  more  shrunk  than  she 
would  have  shrunk  from  an  Adonis ! 
Can  you  believe  that  ?  I  remember  with 
out  believing  it !  And  at  that  moment  I 
tasted  the  first  moment  of  real  happiness 
I  had  tasted  in  the  world !  Then  the 
poor,  deformed  dwarf  was  a  human  be 
ing  after  all ! — the  monster  was  not  so 
hideous  and  repulsive  as  he  had  dreamed ! 
— after  all,  he  was  a  man,  belonged  to 
mankind,  was  not  an  ape,  a  wild-man  of 
the  woods,  an  object  of  disgust  or  hor 
ror.  When  I  took  her  hand  in  my  own 
she  did  not  shudder  or  grow  sick ! — then 
she  had  seen  that  behind  this  mask  was 
a  heart  and  a  brain — felt  that  the  brain 
thought,  and  the  heart  throbbed;  and  her 
own  heart  melted — was  nearly  my  own, 
I  think !  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  terminated  this  sentence 
with  a  grin,  and,  smoking  with  great 
gusto,  said: 

"  I  am  growing  a  little  tired  of  this 
part  of  my  subject,  but  nothing  is  so  se 
ductive  as  this  analytical  exposition  of 
human  nature  under  peculiar  phases. 
You  see,  my  dear  friend,  I  am  proceed 
ing  exactly  as  I  proceed  when  a  subject 
— a  dead  body,  that  is — is  lying  on  a  ta 
ble  before  me,  and  I  have  the  scalpel  in 
my  hand.  I  dissect  a  heart  as  I  dissect  a 
body.  Well,  what  is  the  lesson  that  is 
sought  to  be  demonstrated  in  the  present 
lecture,  my  youthful  friends — friend,  that 
is?  Why,  that  a  deformed  dwarf  has 
actually  a  heart,  feelings,  passions,  and 
that  a  woman  can  understand  as  much, 
and  see  the  man  through  the  hideous 
mask!  To  proceed.  The  romance  is 
nearly  ended.  An  interruption  took 
place  on  that  eventful  morning,  and  the 
ladies  left  Williamsburg  almost  immedi 
ately.  I  did  not  see  them  again  for  some 
years.  Then  your  mother  had  married 
your  father — they  came  to  this  house  to 


live — and,  visiting  Williamsburg  once, 
Mrs.  Innis  invited  me  to  come  and  see 
them,  as  an  old  friend,  in  their  mountain- 
home.  I  did  so,  for  my  old  romance  re 
mained  untouched — and  here  I  found 
your  aunt.  Shall  I  continue  ?  I  offered 
her  my  hand  in  this  apartment.  She 
did  not  reply  either  '  Yes '  or  '  J^o ; '  I  was 
forced  to  return  to  the  capital — and  a 
year  afterward  she  was  Lady  Brand. 
All  that  came  about  in  the  most  natural 
way.  Colonel  Seaton  brought  the  young 
lady  to  Williamsburg  She  there  met 
Colonel  Brand.  Her  uncle,  her  friends, 
everybody,  said,  '  Marry  him,'  and  she 
finally  did  so,  caring  for  him,  as  I  hap 
pen  to  know,  not  a  fig  !  I  saw  that  at  a 
glance ;  and  what  did  I  do,  my  friend  ? 
I  said  to  her:  'If  you  should  ever  re 
quire  the  aid  of  a  true  friend,  send  for 
me,  and  I  will  come  to  you,  either  by 
day  or  by  night ; '  and  then  I  went  back 
to  my  duties,  and  forgot  all  about  my 
romance,  and  don't  care  a  farthing  now 
for  her  beyond  mere  friendship,  nor  re 
gret  that  she  married  my  rival ! 

"  There's  your  pretty  little  romance, 
my  boy  !  "  said  the  doctor,  laughing  ; 
"  love,  nay,  passion !  —  disappointment, 
anguish,  indifference,  oblivion!  That's 
the  course  of  things  in  this  curious  world. 
You  break  your  heart  about  a  woman 
to-day,  and  in  half  a  year  you  have  for 
gotten  her!  Every  thing  changes,  my 
son — nothing  remains  the  same  !  Do  you 
think  that  time,  that  wears  away  the  very 
Pyramids,  don't  wear  away  human  grief? 
The  grief  is  the  easier  of  the  two,  I  as 
sure  you!  Eternal  despair! — nonsense! 
A  year  is  not  an  eternity !  Come !  let 
us  cease  this  philosophic  strain  !  Drink 
me  this  glass  of  punch — 'tis  imperial! 
Vive  la  joie  !  and  let  dull  care  begone !  " 

The  doctor  imbibed  a  huge  mouthful 
of  punch  ;  refilled  his  glass ;  mounted 
with  great  agility  into  his  chair,  from 
which  he  stepped  to  the  table,  and,  rais 
ing  his  arm  until  it  nearly  touched  the 
ceiling,  cried: 


HALLUCINATION. 


107 


"  A  health  to  Oblivion— the  last,  best 
friend  of  humanity  !  " 

At  an  hour  past  midnight,  Dr.  Van 
dyke  was  shown  to  bed  by  his  host ;  and 
anybody  who  had  looked  at  him  would 
have  seen  upon  his  countenance  an  ex 
pression  of  unmistakable  disappointment. 

In  reply  to  his  narrative,  Innis  had 
only  said,  with  the  same  dull,  apathetic 
look: 

"  I  said  when  you  came,  doctor,  that 
I  regarded  you  as  one  of  my  best  friends 
— \vjell,  your  history  has  more  than  ever 
convinced  me  of  the  fact.  You  relate 
your  own  disappointment,  to  impress 
upon  me  the  moral  that  grief  wears 
away,  and  indifference  comes.  So  be  it. 
I  trust  'twill  come !  But  I  shall  none  the 
less  leave  this  house  and  Virginia,  in  two 
days  from  this  time,  never  to  return. 
My  house  is  sold,  my  valise  is  already 
packed — it  is  my  great  good  fortune,  as 
I  turn  my  back  forever  on  Virginia,  to 
have  heard  your  friendly  voice,  doctor. 
Good-night !  " 

On  the  next  morning,  Dr.  Vandyke 
returned  to  Williamsburg. 


XLVII. 

HALLUCINATION. 

A  WEEK  after  these  events,  Lord 
Euthven  was  seated  in  an  arm-chair,  in 
his  lodgings  at  Williamsburg,  wrapped 
in  his  dressing-gown  of  figured  silk.  In 
a  chair  opposite  sat  Dr.  Vandyke,  whose 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  his  patient. 

Euthven  was  fearfully  thin  and  pale. 
His  frame  seemed  to  have  dwindled 
away;  and  his  eyes  had  that  dreamy, 
wandering  expression  which  indicates 
the  want  of  physical  energy  under  the 
hand  of  disease. 

"  So  you  think  I  shall  recover  now, 
doctor  ?  "  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Unless  you  have  a  relapse,  which, 


to  be  frank  with  you,  is  apt  to  prove 
fatal,"  was  the  reply. 

Euthven  inclined  his  head. 

"I  like  frankness,  doctor.  I  have 
had  a  dangerous  attack,  have  I  not?  " 

"  Very  dangerous.1' 

"You  have  not  yet  given  me  your 
opinion  of  my  case — I  should  say,  have 
not  explained  its  nature,  and  I  should  be 
glad  to  know  now  the  character  of  the 
disease  which  has  just  assailed  me." 

"Do  you  wish  the  scientific  or  the 
familiar  definition;  that  is  to  say,  jargon 
or  intelligible  statement  ?  " 

"  The  familiar  definition,  doctor. — 
What  has  been  the  cause  of  my  illness  ?  " 

"  Nervous  prostration." 

Euthven  nodded. 

"  Your  view  coincides  with  my  own. 
And  to  what  was  this  prostration  of  the 
nervous  system  due;  to  physical  or  to 
mental  causes  ? " 

"Do  you  wish  a  plain  statement  of 
your  case?  I  hate  beating  round  the 
bush,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  in  his  vibrating 
and  metallic  voice. 

"  A  plain  statement,  by  all  means, 
sir." 

"Listen,  then,  my  Lord  Euthven. 
Men  of  your  organization  and  habits 
never  undergo  nervous  prostration  from 
physical  causes.  Drunkards,  roues,-  and 
others,  have  attacks  of  that  description. 
You  are  neither  a  drunkard  nor  a  roue; 
thus  the  cause  of  disease  is  to  be  sought 
elsewhere ;  and  I"  may  as  well  inform 
you  that  I  have  not  had  long  to  seek. 
You  have  been  ill,  very  ill,  in  conse 
quence  of  mental  excitement,  which,  re 
acting,  as  every  thing  does,  on  the  body, 
has  brought  the  physical  system  in  sym 
pathy  with  the  mental  condition — that 
is,  made  you  ill.  Beyond  this,  I  see  no 
necessity  to  go." 

"And  yet  you  have  gone  further?  " 

The  eyes  of  the  two  men  met. 

"Yes,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  coolly. 

"  You  have  discovered  the  source  of 
my  mental  excitement." 


108 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"  Yes." 

"What  is  it?" 

"You  wish  me  to  speak  plainly  ?  " 

«  Yes— yes." 

"Well,  I  employ  the  scientific  term 
now.  You  have  been  the  victim  of  hal 
lucination" 

"  The  plainer  term  for  which  is—  ?  " 

Ruthven  looked  with  sudden  inten 
sity  at  the  physician. 

"  Second  sight,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke. 

Ruthven  uttered  a  low  groan,  and 
closed  his  eyes  as  though  he  were  about 
to  faint. 

"  Your — meaning?  "  he  murmured. 

"  I  mean  nothing — a  mere  jest,"  said 
Dr.  Vandyke ;  "  here,  a  few  drops  of  this 
cordial  ?  " 

"No,  doctor,"  said  Ruthven,  sitting 
erect  in  his  chair,  and  speaking  in  a  firm 
voice.  "I  do  not  need  it,  and  am  strong 
er,  I  think,  than  you  suppose.  You 
would  turn  the  conversation,  I  see,  but 
do  not  fear — the  topic  does  not  agitate 
me." 

He  remained  lost  in  thought  for  some 
moments  ;  then  he  said: 

"I  was  not  aware  that  you  had 
turned  your  attention  to  a  subject  which 
few  thinkers  regard  as  worthy  of  their 
serious  attention.  Then  you  believe — in 
the  superstition,  as  the  world  calls  it,  of 
— second  sight  ?  " 

He  uttered  the  last  words  only  after 
a  moment's  hesitation,  and  with  evident 
repugnance. 

Dr.  Vandyke  looked  fixedly  at  him, 
and  said : 

"  Believe  in  is  a  phrase  which  means 
mnch  or  little.  If  you  tell  me  that  you 
have  scon  a  ghost  and  felt  the  breath  of 
the  grave  issue  from  the  phantom,  I  be 
lieve  in  the  ghost — as  far  as  it  concerns 
yourself." 

"Well,  well,"  was  Ruthven's  impa 
tient  exclamation,  "  but  that  is  no  reply. 
I  ask  if  you  "believe  that — " 

"  Human  beings  in  the  island  of  Skye 
and  in  parts  of  Scotland  fall  into  trances, 


and  see  the  future  ?  Yes — I  believe  that 
they  believe  it." 

"  Then  you  do  not  believe  it  ?  "  Lord 
Ruthven  murmured. 

"  I  believe  in  science,  and  science  de 
fines  hallucination  as  plainly  as  it  de 
fines  any  other,  the  most  rational  opera 
tion  of  the  human  brain." 

"  We  drop  logic  and  fence  with 
words,  sir,"  said  Ruthven,  impatiently. 
"  You  plainly  have  no  faith  in  this — 
second  sight,"  again  he  paused  before 
the  words ;  "  but  suppose  I  were  to  tell 
you  that  I  know  persons — in  my  own 
family — who  possess  the  fearful  gift?  " 

"Yourself,  that  is  to  say,"  said  Dr. 
Vandyke.  "  I  know  very  well  that 
second  sight  is  hereditary,  or  people 
think  so,  ut  ante — otherwise  I  should 
not  have  said,  'Your  nervous  prostra 
tion  is  due  to  this  cause.'  Am  I 
wrong  ?  " 

"  You  have  divined  rightly." 

The  words  were  uttered  in  an  almost 
sepulchral  whisper. 

"Yes,"  continued  Lord  Ruthven, 
gloomily,  "my  family  has  for  two  hun 
dred  years  been  the  victim  of  this  fright 
ful  faculty.  They  have  seen,  in  vision, 
the  events  that  are  to  come — the  faces, 
the  figures,  the  scenes,  have  all  passed 
before  them.  And  the  scenes  of  my  fu 
ture  have  passed  before  me  !  " 

"  My  lord !  "  said  Dr.  Vandyke. 

"Sir!" 

"  You  will  have  the  goodness,  if  you 
please,  to  stop  this  sort  of  talk.  I  con 
sented  to  discuss  with  you  this  scientific 
question,  but  had  no  design  to  bring  on 
a  second  attack  of  nervous  illness.  In 
an  evil  moment  I  uttered  the  words, 
' hallucination '  and  'second  sight.1  I 
am  sorry  I  did  so,  and  it  was  a  waste  of 
time,  too,  for  I  now  inform  yon  frankly 
that  your  'second-sight'  business  is  all 
flummery — moonshine." 

"  You  think  so?  "  came  in  a  low  voice 
from  Ruthven's  pale  lips.  "Well,  so  be 
it,  sir." 


WHAT   OCCURRED   AT   THE   WEDDIXG-DIXXER. 


109 


"I  know  it!  All  froth  and  devil's 
deception!  Let  the  thought  alone!  It 
will  madden  you!  Buy  a  fiddle,  and 
drink  rum,  and  go  and  dance  a  dozen 
reels — there's  your  philosophic  proceed 
ing — and  let  these  chimeras  rest  in  con 
genial  darkness." 

Lord  Ruthven  bowed  with  calm  cour 
tesy,  and  said,  coolly : 

"I  thank  you  for  your  advice,  doctor, 
and  acknowledge  that  it  is  sound.  And 
now  let  us  have  done  with  this  rather 
melancholy  subject,  which  I  had  no  de 
sign  to  discuss,  and  was  betrayed  into, 
before  becoming  aware  of  the  fact. 
"What  is  my  condition  —  when  shall  I 
recover?  " 

"Speedily,  if  you  have  no  relapse." 

"  I  shall  be  able  to — travel,  say — in 
my  coach — in  a  week  ? " 

"No." 

"In  two  weeks?" 

"Possibly." 

"Thanks,  sir.  That  will  serve  my 
purpose." 

"If  you  take  my  advice,"  growled 
Dr.  Vandyke,  "you  will  put  off  this 
travelling  for  a  month." 

"That  is  impracticable,  doctor,  for 
reasons  it  is  needless  to  detail." 

"Right — I  know  them.  You  are 
going  to  Rivanna  to  marry  Honoria 
Brand." 

"Yes,  doctor— I  see  that  you  are  ac 
quainted  with  my  private  affairs." 

"  Perfectly ;  and,  perhaps,  I  know 
some  circumstances  unknown  to  your 
self." 

"  Unknown  ? " 

"Do  you  know  that  Honoria  Brand 
loves  her  cousin,  Edmund  Innis? " 

A  cloud  passed  across  Ruthven's 
brow,  and  his  eyes  grew  cold  and 
haughty. 

"I  knew  at  least  that  Mr.  Innis  did 
the  future  Countess  of  Ruthven  the  hon 
or  to  bestow  his  affections  upon  her." 

"And  this  mutual  attachment — for  it 
is  mutual — is  no  obstacle  in  your  eyes  ?  " 


"  An  obstacle?  No!  A  cause  of  dis 
pleasure?  Yes!  " 

"Why,  then—" 

"Persist  in  the  offer  of  my  hand,  sir? 
For  the  very  simple  reason  that  marriage 
is  not  silly  romance.  This  is  better  un 
derstood  in  Europe  than  in  Virginia,  sir! 
Do  you  fancy  that  in  Europe  young  la 
dies  neglect  to  enjoy  their  private  ro 
mance?  Everywhere  they  do  so;  but 
they  form  alliances,  sir,  upon  solider 
foundations !  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  listened  to  these  words 
in  gloomy  silence. 

"Well,"  he  muttered,  "'tis  no  affair 
of  mine ;  I  have  done  all  I  could,  and 
this  one  is  like  the  other  at  Rivanna." 

Having  solaced  himself  with  this 
growl,  Dr.  Vandyke  rose. 

"  If  she  can't  stand  up,  that  will  end 
it!  "  he  added,  in  the  same  tone. 

He  turned  to  Lord  Ruthven. 

"You  are  doing  well  now,  and  need 
me  no  further,"  he  said.  "Good-day, 
sir." 

Before  Lord  Ruthven  could  reply  he 
had  left  the  room. 


XLVIII. 

WHAT    OCCUERED    AT    THE    WEDDING- 
DINNEE. 

THE  morning  of  the  day  fixed  on  for 
Honoria's  marriage  came  at  last.  All 
night  the  snow  had  been  falling — the 
fields,  forests,  and  mountains,  were  en 
veloped  in  a  white  shroud — and  now, 
when  the  storm  had  ceased,  a  freezing 
wind  had  succeeded,  howling  around 
the  gables  and  in  the  spectral  trees,  and 
driving  the  light  snow  before  it  in  blind 
ing  gusts. 

Despite,  however,  the  forbidding  na 
ture  of  the  weather,  the  wedding-guests 
began  to  arrive  at  an  early  hour,  curious 
to  witness  the  ceremony  of  the  wedding 
of  a  young  lady  of  the  quiet  country 
neighborhood  with  a  real  nobleman. 


110 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


The  invitations  had  been  almost  univer 
sal — no  one  with  the  slightest  preten 
sions  to  good  society  having  been  omit 
ted;  but  there  had  been  a  species  of 
distinction  made  by  the  proud  Colonel 
Brand.  While  a  countless  number  were 
invited,  as  we  now  say,  to  "the  cere 
mony,"  which  was  to  take  place  at  night, 
invitations  to  dinner  had  been  confined 
to  a  select  few  of  the  most  prominent 
personages  of  the  vicinity.  These  now 
arrived  ;  but  unfortunately,  as  the  reader 
will  perceive,  there  mingled  with  them 
some  others,  who,  liberally  regarding  an 
invitation  as  an  invitation,  made  their 
appearance  in  the  forenoon,  bent  on 
dinner. 

Colonel  Brand  received  every  guest, 
however,  with  the  formal  politeness  ha 
bitual  with  him ;  and  general  conversation 
ensued  in  the  great  drawing-room,  where 
the  motley  throng  warmed  their  chilled 
limbs  before  the  mighty  fire  of  roaring 
hickory.  As  yet,  the  ladies  had  not 
made  their  appearance,  and  the  company 
separated  itself  into  groups  instinctively 
— the  grand  old  nabobs,  in  powdered 
wigs,  silk  stockings,  and  ruffles,  convers 
ing,  ore  rotundo,  with  stately  dignity,  to 
themselves ;  the  plainer  planters,  with 
waistcoats  buttoned  to  their  chins,  and 
hair  tied  in  plain  knots  behind,  mean 
while  exchanging  in  a  coterie,  some  feet 
distant,  observations  on  the  approaching 
ceremony. 

As  the  forenoon  passed  on,  guests 
continued  to  gather,  and  at  last  a  move 
ment  of  all  heads  in  the  direction  of  the 
window  indicated  the  arrival  of  a  per 
sonage  of  importance. 

This  personage  proved  to  be  Lord 
Euthven.  He  descended,  wrapped  in 
heavy  furs,  from  his  chariot,  whose  four 
horses  were  smoking  and  covered  with 
foam,  from  the  rapidity  of  the  arduous 
journey  through  the  snow,  and  entered 
the  mansion,  on  the  threshold  of  which 
Colonel  Brand  was  ready  to  receive  him. 

"  Welcome  to  Rivanna,   my  lord !  " 


|  said  the  colonel,  with  stately  dignity, 
and  bowing  low,  as,  with  outstretched 
hand,  he  greeted  the  bridegroom.  "  I 
had  hoped  for  your  earlier  arrival,  but 
the  roads  are,  no  doubt,  most  difficult." 

Lord  Ruthven  bowed  low  in  turn,  ut 
tered  a  few  words  in  response  to  his 
host's  greeting,  and  was  ushered  into  the 
drawing-room  where  the  assembled  com 
pany  was  presented  to  him,  one  after 
another.  He  replied,  in  every  instance, 
by  a  simple  bow,  and  seemed  entirely 
unaware  of  the  fact  that  he  was  the  cen 
tre  of  all  eyes.  All  were  struck  with 
his  pallor,  and  the  settled  gloom  of  his 
expression  ;  and  it  was  afterward  remem 
bered  that,  as  he  entered  the  room,  he 
had  looked  around  him  in  a  most  singular 
manner,  growing  paler  than  before.  An 
other  unusual  circumstance  also  attracted 
attention.  When,  after  the  general  in 
troduction,  some  one  spoke  to  him,  he 
would  suddenly  rouse  himself  with  a 
start  from  his  species  of  reverie,  gaze 
with  a  fearful  expression  at  the  speaker, 
and,  even  while  replying  in  a  few  brief 
and  constrained  words,  would  glance 
over  his  right  shoulder  in  a  very  unac 
countable  manner,  as  though  he  suspect 
ed  the  presence  of  some  danger,  against 
which  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  be 
upon  his  guard. 

It  was  impossible  that  these  very  un 
usual  circumstances,  in  connection  with 
Lord  Ruthven's  appearance  and  demean 
or,  should  not  excite  surprise,  and  occa 
sion  subsequent  comment,  on  the  part  of 
the  guests  ;  but  his  lordship  was  quickly 
shown  to  his  chamber,  whither  the  silent 
and  attentive  Fergus  had  seen  his  travel 
ling-trunks  borne,  and  the  door  of  the 
drawing-room  closed  abruptly,  erecting 
an  impassable  barrier  between  the  pale 
nobleman  and  the  curious  company. 

Nearly  two  hours  then  passed,  when 
the  door  opened,  and  Lord  Ruthven 
was  again  ushered  in  by  the  stately 
Colonel  Brand.  He  had  changed  his 
travelling-dress,  and  had  donned  a  dark 


WHAT   OCCURRED   AT   THE   WEDDING-DINNER. 


Ill 


costume  of  the  richest  and  most  elegant 
description.  It  was  impossible  not  to  be 
struck  by  his  air  of  high  breeding  and 
distinction;  but,  as  before,  it  was  the 
singular  face  of  the  young  nobleman 
which  riveted  all  eyes.  He  was,  if  pos 
sible,  paler  than  ever,  and  entered  the 
room  in  sepulchral  silence — a  walking 
shadow.  During  the  few  moments  which 
followed  his  entry  he  did  not  utter  a 
word,  but  stood  like  a  statue  amid  the 
crowd  of  guests,  who  unconsciously  drew 
back. 

The  appearance  of  the  ladies  afforded 
a  welcome  diversion.  Lady  Brand,  ac 
companied  by  her  daughters  and  her 
lady-guests,  entered,  and  greeted  her 
visitors.  But  she  attracted  attention  for 
an  instant  only.  All  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  Ilonoria,  who  was  as  pale  as  Lord 
Ruthven,  and  who  resembled,  in  her 
white  dress  and  with  her  whiter  cheeks, 
a  ghost,  rather  than  a  human  being. 

Lord  Ruthven  had  advanced  quickly 
and  bowed  low,  with  stately  courtesy, 
over  the  hands  which  Lady  Brand  and 
the  young  ladies  held  out.  Honoria's 
was  extended  toward  him  in  an  abrupt 
and  convulsive  manner,  and  he  found  it 
as  cold  as  ice.  For  an  instant  their  eyes 
met — the  sunken  eyes  of  the  girl  wore  a 
strange  expression — but  she  preserved 
her  self-possession,  seemed  unconscious 
of  the  scrutiny  to  which  she  was  subject 
ed,  and  seemed  to  regard  with  apathetic 
indifference  the  whole  scene  around 
her. 

Everybody  felt  relieved  when  the 
door  opened,  and  the  old,  gray-haired 
major-domo,  Robin,  with  a  silver  waiter 
under  his  arm,  looked  respectfully  tow 
ard  Colonel  Brand,  thus  announcing  that 
dinner  was  served. 

Lord  Ruthven  offered  his  arm  to  Lady 
Brand,  who  stood  near  him ;  the  com 
pany  entered  the  great  dining-room, 
blazing  with  lights  in  silver  candelabra 
— for  night  was  near — and  took  their 
seats  at  the  broad  board  whose  rich  blue 


china  and  old  plate  sparkled  in  the  flood 
of  light. 

The  grand  dinner  went  on  its  way  in 
a  stiff  and  stately  manner,  little  relieved 
by  conversation.  Honoria  sustained  the 
glances  of  all  without  change  in  her  apa 
thetic  expression,  and  sent  away  course 
after  course  nearly  untasted.  The  only 
indication  of  her  feelings  was  her  fright 
ful  pallor ;  and  this  became  at  times  so 
unnatural  that  Lady  Brand  was,  more 
than  once,  upon  the  point  of  rising,  and 
leading  her  from  the  room,  under  the 
apprehension  that  she  was  about  to  faint. 
Nothing,  for  some  time,  however,  oc 
curred  to  mar  the  festivity — if  such  it 
could  be  called.  On  the  contrary,  the 
stiffness  of  the  scene  gradually  gave  way 
before  the  rich  wines ;  the  awe  felt  for 
the  ceremonious  Colonel  Brand,  by  a 
portion  of  the  company,  melted,  and 
the  dinner  promised  to  terminate  more 
cheerfully  and  cordially  than  it  had  com 
menced. 

But  the  fates  were  adverse.  The 
heady  wines  had  done  their  work.  Cer 
emony  was  lost  sight  of  by  some  of  the 
honest  old  fellows  who  had  construed 
their  general  invitation  to  the  wedding, 
into  an  invitation  to  the  wedding  and 
dinner ;  and  two  of  these  old  neighbors 
now  began  to  discuss  the  approaching 
ceremony. 

The  conversation  of  these  worthy 
country  gentlemen,  now  warmed  by  the 
colonel's  canary,  was  not  precise  or  for 
mal,  as  will  be  seen ;  and  a  portion  of  it 
will  account  for  what  followed. 

"  Strange  enough,"  said  one  of  them 
to  his  old  neighbor.  "And  beats  the 
story-books  all  hollow,  eh  ?  " 

"  All  hollow,"  replied  his  friend. 

"It  was  honorable  in  our  friend 
Brand,  though,  to  record  it  in  the  court 
of  probate,"  continued  the  first  speaker. 
"If  what  they  say  is  true,  younir  Innis 
tore  up  the  will,  and  swore  he  wouldn't 
take  the  property." 

"Did  he  do  that?" 


112 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


"I'm  told  so,  and  it's  like  his  father's 
son ;  his  father  was  as  honest  a  gentle 
man  as  ever  hunted  a  fox." 

"  A  gentleman  before  he  was  born ! 
So  Ned  Innis  tore  up  the  will  ?  " 

"  Yes,  neighbor,  and  they  say  it  was 
all  on  account  of  the  boy's  love  for  little 
Miss  Honoria ;  and  if  so,  I  say  it's  a  thou 
sand  pities  Tie  can't  get  her  instead  of 
this  '  my  lord,'  who  looks  like  a  block  of 
ice,  with  a  handful  of  snow  for  a  face !  " 

"Ha!  ha!  That's  good,  neighbor! 
A  block  of  ice,  ha !  ha !  A  good  thing ! 
Yes,  it's  a  thousand  pities !  " 

"  And  I'm  told — hold  your  ear  close, 
neighbor." 

"  Yes—" 

And  the  other  drew  nearer. 

"I'm  told  the  little  lady  loves  him 
better — a  thousand  times  better — than 
her  fine  lord  and  master  to  be." 

"Loves  Ned  Innis?" 

"Yes." 

"  That's  a  pity — a  sad  pity,  neighbor. 
Loves  the  boy,  did  you  say  ?  " 

"Better  than  she  loves  herself.  I 
drink  your  health,  neighbor." 

"  Your  good  health !  So  this  match 
is  hard  on  her." 

"  Look  at  her  ;  you  can  see  that  it  is 
killing  her!  " 

"So  it  is— hum!  hum!" 

"  Such  cheeks !  "Was  any  thing  ever 
as  white  ? " 

"  As  white  as  a  sheet." 

"Look  !  I  think  she's  going  to  faint. 
There  is  Lady  Brand  getting  up  to  take 
her  out  of  the  room !  " 

"  Yes — no  !  She  is  down  again.  A 
sad  business,  neighbor — a  sad  business." 

And,  overcome  by  grief,  the  worthy 
gentleman  poured  out  a  large  glass  of 
canary,  passing  the  decanter  to  his  neigh 
bor,  who  imitated  him.  In  the  half  an 
hour  which  followed,  this  ceremony  was 
repeated  several  times,  and  the  worthies 
began  to  talk  thick. 

"  And  this  will  you  told  me  of — 
where  did  they  find  it  ?  " 


"In  a  desk  where  Colonel  Seaton 
kept  his  private  papers." 

"  You  are  wrong  there,  sir,"  sudden 
ly  exclaimed  a  red-faced  worthy  next  to 
the  speaker.  He  had  evidently  partaken 
in  large  quantities  of  the  canary,  and 
spoke  fiercely.  "  You  are  wrong !  The 
will  was  found  in  a  chest  of  drawers — 
not  a  desk." 

"  You  are  wrong,  sir !  'Twas  a 
desk !  "  was  the  retort  of  the  first 
speaker. 

"I  am  not  wrong,  sir!"  exclaimed 
the  other,  with  drunken  severity,  "and  I 
am  not  in  the  habit  of  stating  what  I 
don't  know — do  you  hear,  sir  ?  If  you 
doubt  my  word,  sir,  I'll  soon  show  you 
whether  I'm  talking  sense !  " 

And,  raising  his  voice  to  a  pitch 
which  drowned  the  conversation  of  the 
rest  of  the  company,  the  red-faced  speak 
er  called  out : 

"  Colonel  Brand  !  " 

The  words  rang  out  clearly,  and  in 
stantly  attracted  everybody's  eyes  tow 
ard  him  who  uttered  them.  The  colonel, 
who  was  at  the  moment  uttering  a  cere 
monious  compliment  to  a  dowager  seated 
on  his  left,  suddenly  turned  his  head, 
and  frowned  slightly. 

"Colonel  Brand!  I  say,  Colonel 
Brand !  "  came  again  from  the  impatient 
worthy. 

"Did  you  address  me,  sir?  "  said  the 
host,  with  crushing  dignity. 

"Yes,  sir!  I  did.  My  word  has 
been  doubted,  and  I  call  on  you  to  say 
if  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about  or 
not!" 

Colonel  Brand  scowled  at  the  rude 
ness  of  the  speaker. 

"  Being  ignorant  of  the  subject  of 
your  conversation,  sir,"  he  said,  "I  am 
naturally  unable  to  afford  you  the  infor 
mation  which  you  are  good  enough  to 
demand  so  loudly  of  me,  sir !  " 

But  the  colonel's  interlocutor  was 
beyond  the  point  where  hauteur  makes 
any  impression.  The  worthy  only  com- 


WHAT  OCCURRED  AT   THE    v\rEDDING-DINXER. 


113 


prehended  that  Colonel  Brand  meant  to 
ask  information,  and  cried  : 

"I  said  that  old  Colonel  Seaton's 
will — his  last  will  in  favor  of  £oung  In- 
nis's  m other — was  found  in  a  chest  of 
drawers,  and  not  in  a  desk.  This  state 
ment,"  added  the  worthy  with  drunken 
dignity,  "has  been  doubted  ! — and  I  call 
on  you  to  say  if  I  know  what  I'm  talk 
ing  about!  " 

Colonel  Brand  felt  the  blood  rush  to 
his  face,  and  an  angry  shot  from  his 
eyes.  He  controlled  his  rising  wrath, 
however,  and  replied  with  intense  hau 
teur: 

"  I  should  prefer  not  discussing  my 
private  affairs  at  the  dinner-table,  sir !  " 

"  Well,  that's  just  as  you  choose !  " 
was  the  reply  of  the  red-faced  guest, 
whose  wrath  rose  to  meet  that  of  his 
host.  u  You  can  talk  or  not  talk,  just  as 
you  like,  but  I  say  that  the  will  was 
found  in  a  chest  of  drawers ;  and,  more 
over,  that  young  Innis  was  a  fool  to  tear 
it  up,  and  let  you  have  his  property  1  " 

"Sir!"  gasped  the  colonel,  flushing 
crimson  and  glaring  at  the  speaker,  "  are 
you  aware  that  you  are  in  a  gentleman's 
house  ! — at  my  table ! — in  the  presence 
of  ladies!" 

"  I  know  where  I  am !  "  growled  the 
worthy,  "  and  that — " 

"  This  is  a  vulgar  intrusion,  sir ! — I — 
I—!" 

The  colonel  gasped  for  breath;  but 
his  ire  flew  off  harmless  from  the  canary- 
heated  guest. 

"  Vulgar,  am  I  ?— an  intruder,  am  I  ? " 
exclaimed  that  worthy ;  "  and  only  be 
cause  I  say  what  everybody  is  saying ! 
I'm  not  to  be  frowned  down,  Colonel 
Brand,  if  you  are  marrying  your  daugh 
ter  to  a  lord,  who's  no  better,  in  my 
opinion,  than  any  other  man !  " 

"  Will  you — have  the  goodness — !  " 

Colonel  Brand  began  thus,  and  we 
are  sorry  to  say,  ended  with  a  violent 
oath,  which  produced  no  effect,  however, 
on  his  valorous  opponent. 

8 


"Don't  be  swearing  at  me!"  was 
the  wrathful  response.  "I'm  not  your 
slave,  sir !  If  you  only  knew  it,  every 
body  has  his  opinion  of  your  marrying 
your  daughter  against  her  will  to  this 
foreigner,  when  she  loves  young  Innis — 
he  loves  her  too,  and  gives  up  his  whole 
property  to  the  man  who's  come  to  take 
away  his  sweetheart !  " 

A  low  cry  followed  the  words,  and 
Lady  Brand  caught  Honoria  in  her  arms. 
The  girl  had  fainted,  and  was  borne 
from  the  apartment  in  the  midst  of  a 
scene  of  the  utmost  agitation  and  con 
fusion.  Above  this  scene  towered  the 
wrathful  form  of  Colonel  Brand  ;  and  it 
is  impossible  to  say  what  might  have 
occurred,  had  not  his  drunken  oppo 
nent  been  borne  almost  forcibly  from  the 
room,  and  soon  afterward  to  his  home. 

Eor  some  moments  the  colonel  stood 
silent,  flushed  with  rage,  and  drawing 
long  breaths.  He  was  evidently  strug 
gling  against  his  rage,  and  succeeded  in 
controlling  himself.  But  the  attention 
of  all  was  more  particularly  directed  to 
Lord  Ruthven.  His  expression  was  full 
of  the  deadliest  menace,  and  he  resem 
bled  a  tiger  about  to  spring.  Those  who 
had  looked  at  him  during  the  utterance 
of  the  vulgar  insults  of  the  drunken 
guest,  said  afterward  that  his  hand  had 
silently  glidefl  to  his  side  where  the  High 
land  dirk  is  generally  suspended,  and 
that  his  glaring  eyes  betrayed  a  positive 
thirst  for  the  offender's  blood. 

Colonel  Brand's  voice  all  at  once  made 
itself  heard  in  the  turmoil.  In  stern  and 
gloomy  tones,  he  said  : 

"  I-pray  those  who  have  done  me  the 
honor  to  assemble  at  my  board,  to  for 
get,  if  possible,  this  offensive  intrusion 
of  this  vulgar  person.  Such  accidents 
must  occur,  when  persons  unfamiliar 
with  the  commonest  rules  of  good-breed 
ing,  are  invited  to  mingle  in  the  society 
of  gentlemen.  I  disdain  to  reply  to  this 
man's  insults ;  and  Mr.  Innis — my  young 
friend  and  kinsman,  now  undisputed  own- 


114 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


er  of  the  lands  of  Rivanna — would  be 
the  first  to  express  his  disgust  at  this  vul 
gar  insolence !  " 

The  colonel  resumed  his  seat,  and  the 
dinner  went  on  its  way,  but  the  festivity 
Tras  all  hushed.  The  meal  ended  in  om 
inous  silence,  and  the  company  rose  and 
returned  to  the  drawing-room. 

At  the  same  moment  the  great  hall- 
door  was  thrown  open.  A  newly-arrived 
personage,  wrapped  in  a  huge  cloak, 
stamped  to  cleanse  the  snow  from  his  feet 
— and  this  personage,  coining  into  the 
circle  of  light,  revealed  the  squat  and 
powerful  figure,  the  long,  gray  hair,  and 
piercing  eyes  of  Dr.  Vandyke. 


XLIX. 

THE    CONTENTS    OF   RUTHVEX'S   TRUNKS. 

As  Lord  Ruthven  passed  Dr.  Van 
dyke,  on  his  way  to  the  drawing-room, 
their  eyes  met,  and  the  young  nobleman, 
going  close  to  him,  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
quite  inaudible  to  the  rest  of  the  com 
pany : 

"  I  wish  to  have  a  few  moments'  pri 
vate  conversation  with  you,  doctor." 

Dr.  Vandyke's  piercing  glance  seemed 
to  aim  at  penetrating  the  design  of  the 
speaker :  but  Ruthven  remained  calm 
and  impressive. 

"  When  ?  "  said  Dr.  Vandyke. 

"  In  half  an  hour." 

"Where?" 

"  In  my  chamber." 

The  physician  nodded. 

"I  will  come  thither;  but  will  first 
go  see  Lady  Brand  and  the  child,  Meta. 
I  came  for  that." 

With  these  words,  Dr.  Vandyke  be 
stowed  a  comprehensive  nod  upon  the 
company,  who  gazed  at  his  singular  fig 
ure  with  some  astonishment,  and  pro 
ceeded,  without  ceremony,  toward  the 
wing  of  the  mansion,  in  which  Meta's 
chamber  was  situated. 


Colonel  Brand,  who  had  greeted  the 
doctor  with  a  stately  bow,  looked  after 
him,  and  now  said  : 

"Our  friend  Dr.  Vandyke  is  a  some 
what  singular  personage,  my  lord." 

u  But  a  most  estimable  person,"  re 
turned  Ruthven. 

"  Assuredly  ;  and  I  owe  him  my  per 
sonal  thanks  for  coming  through  such 
weather  to  see  Meta." 

"  She  is  better,  I  trust,  sir  ?  " 

"  We  hope  so." 

"  'Tis  a  pleasing  augury,  on  an  occa 
sion  of  this  description,"  said  Ruthven; 
"  and  now,  with  your  permission,  sir,  I 
will  retire  to  my  chamber  for  a  short 
space." 

Colonel  Brand  bowed.  , 

"  I  will  conduct  you,  my  lord." 

"  'Tis  unnecessary.  Let  me  not  take 
you  from  your  guests." 

And,  with  a  gesture  of  courteous  re 
fusal,  Lord  Ruthven  went  up  the  great 
staircase  toward  his  chamber. 

As  he  entered  he  saw  Fergus  stand 
ing  with  his  back  toward  him,  gazing 
upon  a  portrait  upon  the  wall  between 
two  of  the  lofty  windows.  The  apart 
ment  was  elegantly  furnished  with  what 
is  now  called  an  "  ashes-of-roses "  car 
pet,  a  centre-table  of  carved  oak,  easy- 
chairs,  a  couch,  an  immense  bed,  and  in 
the  fireplace  burned  a  cheerful  fire. 

For  the  moment,  Fergus  seemed  quite 
unaware  of  all  these  surroundings.  His 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  portrait  with 
absorbing  attention ;  and,  looking  in  the 
same  direction,  Lord  Ruthven  betrayed 
much  astonishment.  The  portrait  was 
an  exact  likeness  of  himself,  and  this  fact 
evidently  astounded  the  old  body-ser 
vant.  Ruthven  speedily  remembered, 
however,  that  Colonel  Brand  had  in 
formed  him  of  the  existence  of  this  por 
trait  of  the  elder  Lord  Ruthven — which 
had  been  hung  in  this  apartment  after 
its  removal  from  Honoria's  chamber — 
and  he  wondered  that  he  had  not  noticed 
it  on  his  first  entrance. 


THE    CONTENTS  OF  RUTHVEX'S  TRUNKS. 


115 


"  That  is  a  striking  likeness,  Fergus," 
he  said. 

The  old  body-servant  suddenly  turned 
round. 

"  Is  it  a  picture  of  the  late  lord  or  of 
your  lordship  ?  " 

"  Of  the  late  lord,  who  was  Colonel 
Brand's  friend." 

Fergus  nodded. 

"  'T would  do  for  either,  my  lord,  and 
is  surprising." 

Ruthven  stood  for  some  time,  gazing 
at  the  painting. 

"  The  sight  of  this  picture  takes  me 
back  to  Ruthven  Castle,  when  I  was  a 
child,  Fergus,"  he  said  ;  "  and  that  seems 
a  long  time  ago." 
•  "  A  very  long  time,  my  lord." 

"  And  who  would  then  have  dreamed 
that  Fate  would  conduct  me  to  this  re 
mote  spot  in  the  Virginia  mountains; 
that  my  errand  here  would  be  to  find  a 
Lady  Ruthven;  and  that,  at  the  very 
moment  when  the  ceremony  is  about  to 
take  place,  I  should  see  my  father,  as  it 
were,  looking  at  me  with  his  sad,  stern 
eyes  ;  for  the  eyes  are  very  sad,  Fergus — 
full  of  melancholy,  I  think  !  " 

The  words  were  uttered  in  a  sorrowful 
voice,  and  Lord  Ruthven's  head  drooped. 

"  Strange  destiny,"  he  murmured  ; 
"  and  who  can  foretell  his  fate  ?  Singu 
lar  current  of  events!  That  portrait 
was  painted  when  the  original  was  a 
strong  and  stalwart  man  —  I  a  rosy- 
cheeked  child.  He  is  long  dead  now — 
and  I  am  no  longer  a  happy  child,  but  a 
very  sorrowful  man,  Fergus  —  sorrow 
ful,  but  not  bad,  Fergus !  I  think  there 
is  even  much  good  in  me,  old  friend. 
My  —  visions  —  have  not  disturbed  me 
now  for  weeks — a  strange  softness  and 
kindness  seem  to  have  come  to  me! 
Shall  I  be  happy,  then  ?  Has  my  evil 
genius  fled,  to  make  way  for  the  benefi 
cent  spirit  of  love  and  happiness  ?  " 

"  Heaven  grant  it,  my  lord !  "  said 
Fergus,  with  earnest  feeling. 

"  Perchance  'tis  you  who  are  my  good 


genius,  Fergus,"  said  Ruthven,  with  a 
glance  of  affection.  "You  are  devoted 
to  me,  I  know,  as  few  clansmen  are  to 
their  chieftains." 

"Devoted,  my  lord?"  said  the  old 
man,  with  a  flush  in  his  aged  cheeks; 
"that  is  scarcely  the  word.  You  ;;re 
more  to  me  than  I  am  to  myself!  Your 
happiness  and  honor  are  no  less,  nay, 
more,  my  care  than  your  own  !  I  would 
guard  them,  as  the  watch-dog  guards  Lis 
charge  on  the  hills  ;  and,  'tis  not  much 
to  say  that  I  would  die  for  you  !  " 

Fergus  turned  away  to  hide  the  emo 
tion,  of  which  he  seemed  to  be  somewhat 
ashamed,  and  busied  himself  in  taking 
from  Lord  Ruthven's  trunks  the  various 
articles  of  his  wardrobe.  Among  these 
were  two  or  three  dress-swords— at  that 
time  a  portion  of  the  full  toilet  of  a  gen 
tleman — and  these  he  laid  upon  the  ta 
ble.  Next  came  a  number  of  articles  of 
dress,  and  then  a  curiously-fashioned 
Highland  dirk. 

At  sight  of  this  weapon,  Ruthven  ap 
proached,  and  said,  gently : 

"  Replace  that  dangerous-looking  af 
fair,  Fergus ;  'tis  out  of  place  on  so  hap 
py  an  occasion.  Why  was  it  brought  ?  " 

"  From  habit,  my  lord.  We  High 
landers,  you  know,  carry  the  dirk,  as  the 
Sassenoch  wears  his  rapier.  'Tis  from 
custom ;  and  this  came  with  the  other 
things." 

"  So  be  it ;  but  hide  it  away — 'twould 
fright  some  of  the  servants." 

"  I  will  obey  you,  my  lord." 

And  Fergus  replaced  the  grim-look 
ing  weapon  in  the  trunk,  where  it  lay, 
concealed  beneath  an  embroidered  coat 
and  the  ruffled  linen  of  its  owner. 

"  Your  lordship  will  not  change  your 
dress?  "  said  Fergus,  when  this  ceremony 
had  been  performed. 

"  No,  Fergus ;  I  am,  I  believe,  prop 
erly  attired." 

At  this  same  moment  a  knock  came 
at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Ruthven. 


116 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


META    AND   HER   PHYSICIAN. 

META  was  lying  on  a  small  couch  be 
side  the  fire,  in  her  little  apartment  in 
one  of  the  wings ;  and  Lady  Brand,  who 
had  succeeded  in  soothing  Honoria's  agi 
tation,  and  had  intrusted  her  to  the  care 
of  her  bridesmaids,  had  come  for  a  few 
moments  to  see  Meta  before  the  cere 
mony.  The  child  was  very  thin  and 
white,  and  her  black  hair,  lying  in  pro 
fuse  curls  upon  the  snowy  pillow,  framed 
the  sweet  countenance,  lit  up  by  a  tender 
smile. 

Lady  Brand  was  engaged  in  conversa- 
sation  with  Meta,  sighing  deeply  from 
time  to  time,  as  she  thought  of  Honoria, 
when  steps  were  heard  approaching. 
The  door  suddenly  opened,  and  a  hearty 
voice  cried : 

"  "Well,  my  little  snow-drop,  how  are 
we  to-day  ?  " 

With  the  words,  Dr.  Vandyke  clat 
tered  into  the  apartment,  sbook  hands 
vigorously  with  Lady  Brand,  and  then 
went  to  Meta. 

"  Oh,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  doc 
tor,"  said  the  child,  with  a  bright  smile. 
u  Do  you  know  there  is  something  about 
you — I  don't  know  what,  but  I  think  it 
is  sunshine !  " 

This  seemed  to  highly  please  Dr.  Van 
dyke. 

"  Hear  her !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  And 
this  is  your  boasted  invalid — your  pining 
sick  girl !  " 

"  I  am  not  pining,  doctor !  " 

"I  should  think  not!  Pining?  Ha, 
ha!  You  are  radiant,  inspiring,  sun 
beam  like — positively  jolly !  "  exclaimed 
the  doctor,  in  search  of  a  word. 

"  Then  I  am  better  ?  " 

"  You  are  getting  well  so  fast  that  it 
is  a  perfect  farce  for  me  to  be  coming  all 
the  way  from  Williamsburg,  through  the 
snow,  to  look  after  you.  But  I  knew 
'twas  unnecessary.  I  came  to  the  wed 
ding." 


Meta  looked  a  little  sad  at  this,  and 
sighed. 

"  Yes,  Cousin  Honoria  is  to  be  mar 
ried,"  she  said,  pensively  ;  "  and  mamma 
tells  me  everybody  in  the  neighborhood 
is  here." 

Dr.  Vandyke's  preternaturally  acute 
ear  caught  the  sigh,  and  his  penetrating 
intelligence  comprehended  it. 

"Edmund  Innis  is  the  only  one  ab 
sent,"  he  said;  "but  that  is  easily  ac 
counted  for :  he's  left  the  country,  for  a 
time." 

"  Left  the  country,  doctor  ?  " 
"Yes;  some  time  since.  Yon  see, 
my  dear,  he  had  a  sort  of  weakness  for 
Mam'selle  Honoria,  and  was  unwilling  to 
be  present  on  this  joyous  occasion.  At 
first  he  was  unhappy  about  the  affair, 
and  would  see  nobody — not  even  his 
friend  Phil  Gary.  When  he  perceived 
the  approach  up  the  mountain-road  of 
that  young  man,  he  shut  up  doors  and 
windows,  retired  to  his  inner  den,  and 
would  not  open.  I  went  to  see  him, 
however,  and  he  did  me  the  honor  to  re 
ceive  me." 

"  And—?  "  began  Meta,  eagerly. 
"We  talked  about  the  matter — dis 
cussed  it  in  every  form ;  and  I  found  my 
young  friend  quite  resigned.  The  affair 
was  unlucky,  he  said,  but  such  things 
would  occasionally  occur.  He  had  loved 
Honoria — but  that  was  over  now.  He 
could  still  love  her  as  her  brother." 

Meta  closed  her  eyes,  murmuring  to 
herself: 

"And  I  have  changed  too.  I  love 
him  only  as  a  sister  might." 

"  What  did  you  say,  my  dear  ?  " 
"  Nothing,  doctor.     I  am  so  glad  that 
— Edmund — is  resigned,  and  does  not 
grieve." 

"Grieve?  I  think  not!  Why,  my 
dear  little  one,  only  conceive  that  we 
spent  a  jolly  night  together.  I  give  yon 
my  word  of  honor,  we  made  a  bowl  of 
punch,  and,  as  well  as  I  remember — the 
punch  was  rather  strong — we,  or  I,  at 


META  AND  HER  PHYSICIAN. 


117 


least,  chanted  a  bacchanalian  song — ha ! 
ha!1' 

"What  Dr.  Vandyke  stated  "on  his 
word  of  honor"  was  always  the  truth — 
omitting  that  phrase,  he  considered  him 
self,  on  certain  occasions,  and  for  certain 
purposes,  justifiable,  we  are  sorry  to  say, 
in  telling  lies. 

"  The  song  sung  on  this  occasion  was, 
I  believe,  'The  Jolly  Miller,'"  he  con 
tinued.  "You  have  not  heard  it?  It 
commences  thus — " 

And,  in  a  powerful  voice,  gesticulat 
ing  as  he  sung,  Dr.  Vandyke  chanted : 

"'There  was  a  jolly  miller, 

And  a  jolly  wight  was  he ' " — 

At  which  point  he  suddenly  stopped,  ex 
claiming  : 

"  But  the  fine  company  will  be  star 
tled  by  my  mellifluous  strains !  Let  us 
respect  the  rules  of  good  society,  my 
friends." 

And,  looking  sidewise  at  Meta,  Dr. 
Vandyke  saw  that  she  was  ready  to 
laugh. 

"Good!"  he  muttered;  "who  says 
.  there's  no  advantage  in  playing  the  buf 
foon?" 

And,  in  his  careless,  hearty  voice,  he 
said  aloud : 

"  In  fact,  my  dear,  we  made  a  night 
of  it,  and  I  came  near  inducing  our 
young  friend  Innis  to  be  present  at  the 
wedding,  take  things  philosophically, 
and  not  go  on  his  travels.  He  deter 
mined,  nevertheless,  to  adhere  to  his 
original  intention  not  to  come,  and  to 
make  a  brief  tour,  at  least,  with  a  view 
of  coming  back  home  when  he  had 
quieted  down.  So  he  went — won't  be 
here  —  and  now  let  us  talk  of  other 
things.  You  are  fast  recovering,  my 
dear.  I  am  going  to  feel  your  pulse, 
and  put  my  ear  on  your  chest,  just  for 
the  form  of  the  thing." 

Dr.  Vandyke  then  enclosed  the  thin 
wrist  of  Meta  in  his  immense  hand,  the 
index-finger  touching  the  vein.  At  the 


same  moment  he  bent  down  and  placed 
his  ear  upon  the  child's  breast. 

"Pulse,  excellent;  breathing,  all  that 
could  be  wished,"  he  said.  "  Only  keep 
up  your  spirits,  my  little  snow-bird,  and 
you'll  soon  be  well." 

Meta  smiled.  The  intelligence  in 
reference  to  Innis  had  inexpressibly  re 
lieved  her,  and  now  the  good  news  of 
her  condition  further  cheered  her. 

"You  are  very  changeable  in  your 
comparisons,  doctor,"  she  said;  "you 
make  me  out  at  one  moment  a  snow- 
drop,  and  then  a  snow-fo'nZ." 

"And  are  you  not  both?  say,  little 
Miss  White-face,  with  your  little  chirp 
ing  voice." 

"You  must  be  trying  to  make  me 
laugh,  doctor." 

"  To  make  you  laugh  ?  Not  a  bit — 
I  am  telling  you  the  truth.  You  are 
getting  well." 

Meta's  face  was  lit  up  by  a  tender, 
happy  light. 

"  I  am  very,  very  glad,  doctor,"  she 
said,  gently.  "I  am  not  afraid  to  die, 
for  God  is  kind  and  good,  and  I  do  not 
fear  Him— I  love  Him,  and  think  He 
would  receive  me,  a  poor  little  child. 
But  I  would  like  to  live — to  be  with 
mamma,  and  all  I  love  so — now." 

Dr.  Vandyke's  face  slightly  flushed. 

"Right,"  he  said,  no  longer  able  to 
preserve  his  jocular  air,  and  gazing,  as 
he  spoke,  at  the  child  with  great  tender 
ness.  He  then  looked  at  his  watch,  and 
turned  to  Lady  Brand,  who  had  just 
risen. 

"I  must  retire  and  change  my  dress 
now,  madam.  Will  you  show  me  my 
chamber  ?  " 

"  At  once,  doctor." 

And,  assuring  Meta  that  she  would 
send  her  her  old  nurse,  who  genernlly 
remained  in  the  chamber,  Lady  Untml 
went  out  with  the  doctor,  closing  the 
door.  When  they  were  thus  alone,  tlie 
lady  said  : 
•  "You  do  not  think  as  favorablv  of 


118 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


the  poor  child's  condition  as  you  seem  to 
do,  doctor?" 

"  No,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke. 

"  Why,  then—" 

"  Tell  her  lies?  Because,  if  she  lives, 
'twill  smooth  the  way ;  if  she  dies,  'twill 
do  no  harm.  I  make  it  a  point  to  tell 
lies  in  my  profession,  madam.  There  is 
no  change  for  the  worse,  that  is  all." 

Lady  Brand  sighed. 

"And  what  you  said  of  Edmund?  " 

"  Was  a  lie  also,"  returned  Dr.  Van 
dyke,  with  candor.  "He  is  wretched 
enough.  I  tried  to  cheer  him  and  con 
sole  him,  but  could  do  nothing  ;  and  can 
only  say,  I  think  nothing  unfortunate 
will  happen,  which  I  feared/' 

"Heaven  grant  it!  Whither  did  he 
go,  doctor  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"This  sad,  sad  business  !  " 

"Very  sad,  madam  ;  but  life  is  a  sad 
affair,  however  you  take  it.  Now,  time 
is  passing,  and  I  have  an  appointment 
with  Lord  Ruthven,  who  wishes  to  see 
me,  he  says,  for  a  few  moments.  Which 
is  his  chamber  ?  " 

"  The  second  door  on  the  right  after 
ascending  the  main  staircase.  You  will 
scarcely  have  time,  doctor.  Honoria's 
toilet  is  made,  and  the  ceremony  will 
soon  take  place." 

"There  will  be  time,  doubtless." 

With  which  words  Dr.  Vandyke 
gained  the  hall,  mounted  the  great  stair 
case,  which  wound  up  to  the  area  above, 
and  knocked  at  Lord  Ruthven's  door  just 
at  the  moment  when  Fergus  had  replaced 
the  Highland  dirk  in  the  trunk,  and  asked 
his  master  if  any  change  was  necessary 
in  his  dress. 


LI. 


THE   INTERVIEW   BETWEEN"   LORD   RUTHVEN 
AND   DR.    VANDYKE. 

AT  the  words  "  Come  in  !  "  Dr.  Van 
dyke  turned  the  knob  of  the  door  and 


entered.  In  the  few  moments  which 
had  elapsed  since  the  end  of  the  inter 
view  with  Meta,  the  eccentric  physician's 
impression  had  undergone  an  entire 
change.  In  the  child's  chamber  he  had 
laughed,  jested,  nearly  played  the  clown 
— now  he  was  cold,  stern,  collected,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  does  not  particu 
larly  relish  the  society  of  the  person 
with  whom  he  is  about  to  converse,  and 
has  made  up  his  mind  to  be  surprised  at 
nothing. 

As  Dr.  Vandyke  advanced  into  the 
apartment,  Lord  Ruthven  bowed  with 
calm  courtesy,  and  said : 

"  Welcome,  doctor ;  I  thank  you  for 
your  punctuality." 

He  then  turned  to  Fergus. 

"  Leave  us  to  ourselves,  Fergus,  clos 
ing  the  door  carefully.  Remain  there 
without,  and  see  that  no  one  approaches 
the  door.  I  wish  to  converse  for  a  few 
moments  with  Dr.  Vandyke." 

Fergus  silently  left  the  apartment, 
closing  the  door  after  him.  Lord  Ruth- 
ven's  next  proceeding  was  singular.  He 
raised  a  window  and  looked  out  upon  a 
species  of  balcony,  apparently  to  ascer 
tain  if  any  one  were  there;  closed  the 
window,  went  and  sounded  the  walls, 
carefully  locked  the  door,  and  then  re 
turned  to  the  fireplace,  near  which  Dr. 
Vandyke  was  standing. 

"We  are  entirely  alone,  doctor,"  he 
said,  "  and  may  converse  upon  matters 
the  most  secret  without  danger  of  being 
overheard." 

Dr.  Vandyke  looked  intently  at  Ruth 
ven,  but  simply  nodded. 

"This  interview  is,  no  doubt,  a  mys 
tery  to  you — I  mean  its  object?"  con 
tinued  Lord  Ruthven. 
'    "  Humph ! — perhaps — perhaps  not." 

"  We  shall  see — but  you  have  visited 
Meta.  She  is  better,  I  trust  ?  " 

"  No  better." 

"Worse?" 

"  No  worse." 

"  But  not  agitated— suffering  ?  " 


THE  INTERVIEW  BETWEEN  LORD  RUTHVEN  AXD  DR.  VANDYKE.      119 


"Not  at  all." 

"  Will  she  live,  or  die  ?  " 

Lord  Ruthven  seemed  unable  or  un 
willing  to  come  to  the  real  subject  of  the 
interview. 

'-  Will  she  live,  or  die  ?  "  repeated  Dr. 
Vandyke.  "  To  answer  that  question  I 
should  require  to  be  a  divinity — and  I 
am  a  worm  !  What  matters  it  ?  What 
is  life  or  death  ?  This  child  will  see  the 
spring-flowers  at  Rivanna — or  in  heaven ! 
'Tis  the  same." 

A  dreamy  glance  of  the  eyes  accom 
panied  the  words.  The  metallic  voice 
was  suddenly  modulated,  and  sounded 
like  music. 

"  You  seem  moved,  doctor,"  said  Lord 
Ruth  ven. 

"  Moved  ? " 

"  Your  voice  grows  soft — I  scarcely 
recognize  it." 

"Well,  that  is  the  sequel  of  talking 
with  a  sick  girl.  I  am  nearly  seventy, 
without  illusions — my  heart  is  hard — 
well,  the  patience  and  sweetness  of  this 
child  have  melted  me.  But,  to  business!  " 

Lord  Ruthven  bowed. 

"  True,  doctor — and  time  presses.  I 
have  not  requested  you  to  inform  me  of 
Miss  Brand's  condition ;  she  fainted  in 
consequence  of  a  very  disgusting  scene 
at  dinner,  but  has,  I  am  assured,  recov 
ered  now,  and  is  preparing  for  the  ap 
proaching  ceremony." 

"  Yes." 

Ruthven  was  silent  for  a  moment ; 
then  he  looked  fixedly  at  the  doctor,  and 
said: 

"  Tis  of  the  ceremony — my  marriage 
— that  I  desire  to  speak  with  you." 

"  I  know  it." 

Ruthven  was  again  silent.  The  glance 
fixed  upon  Dr.  Vandyke  grew  more  in 
tense. 

uWe  are  losing  time,  doctor,"  he 
said,  with  sudden  gloom. 

"  Well,  come  to  the  point !  " 

"  I  will  do  so.  You  think  me— in 
sane  !  " 


"  Is  that  a  question  ?  " 

"  Reply  to  the  words  as  though  they 
were,  doctor." 

"  To  be  frank,  then— I  do." 

"And  yet,  you  are  absolutely  mis 
taken." 

Dr.  Vandyke  smiled  grimly,  but  said 
nothing.  This  silence  and  the  expression 
of  the  physician's  countenance  apparent 
ly  irritated  Lord  Ruthven. 

"  You  would  say — if  you  said  any 
thing,  sir,"  he  exclaimed — "that  mad 
men  never  believe  themselves  mad, 
would  you  not?  Well,  that  is  perfectly 
just,  and  I  do  not  ask  you  to  take  my 
own  denial.  What  I  do  ask  of  you  is,  an 
attentive  perusal  of  this  paper." 

And,  taking  from  his  breast  a  folded 
document,  Ruthven  extended  it  toward 
Dr.  Vandyke. 

"  'Tis  a  strange  testimony,  and  on  a 
strange  subject,"  said  Ruthven,  relapsing 
into  gloom,  "  as  you  will  perceive,  sir.  I, 
too,  was  disposed  to  entertain,  at  one 
time,  the  same  conviction  you  entertain 
— regarded  myself  as  of  unsound  mind — 
and  took  steps  to  determine  the  question. 
I  visited  Paris,  Rome,  Berlin,  and  the 
chief  cities  of  Europe,  where,  frankly, 
fully,  without  reservation,  my  case,  to 
use  the  medical  term,  was  laid  before  the 
first  physicians.  These  gentlemen  sub 
jected  me  to  the  severest  examination — 
prosecuted  the  investigation  without 
ceremony — and  there  is  the  result." 

Ruthven  pointed,  as  he  spoke,  to  the 
paper,  upon  which  were  a  few  lines  of 
writing  in  five  different  languages,  signed 
by  five  of  the  first  physicians  of  Europe. 
Of  these  languages,  Dr.  Vandyke  was 
familiar  with  four  —  French,  German, 
Italian,  and  Latin;  and  a  perusal  of  the 
paper  placed  the  fact  beyond  doubt  that 
the  man  whom  he  regarded  as  a  mad 
man  was  considered  perfectly  sane  by 
five  of  the  most  celebrated  doctors  of  the 
Old  World. 

The  tact  staggered  him. 

UI   see  that  you  still  doubt,"  said 


120 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


Ruthven ;  "  and,  after  all,  doctor,  au 
thority,  however  great  it  may  be,  is  still 
inconclusive,  since  the  human  mind  is 
liable  to  error.  Use,  then,  your  own 
judgment.  Madmen  have  a  strange  glit 
ter  of  the  eye — my  eyes,  I  believe,  are 
calm.  Their  expression  is  wild,  roving 
— do  you  perceive  aught  of  wildness  in 
mine?  They  talk  incoherently — do  I? 
I  reason,  remember,  love,  and  hate  nor 
mally,  and  can  be  charged.  I  think,  at 
worst,  with  being  the  victim  of  an  ab 
surd  superstition.  Can  you  tell  me  what 
human  being  is  not  irrational  or  super 
stitious  upon  some  point  ?  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  was  more  and  more 
staggered.  Lord  Ruthven  saw  the  ad 
vantage  which  he  had  gained,  and  re 
sumed  with  ardor  the  strange  conversa 
tion. 

"  I  speak  to  one  who  will  understand 
me,  and  weigh  my  words  in  the  scales  of 
reason,"  he  said.  "You  and  I,  doctor, 
are  not  children,  or  shallow  gossips  talk 
ing  neighborhood  news.  I  would  de 
scend  with  you,  if  possible,  into  the 
depths  of  this  profound  subject,  and  en 
deavor  to  reach  some  just  and  rational 
conclusion.  Is  that  rational?  " 

And  a  sad  smile  came  to  the  speak 
er's  lips. 

"Yes;  go  on,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke. 

"  Well,  to  sum  up  in  a  few  words. 
You  hold  in  your  hand  evidence  of  the 
fact  that  the  first  savants  of  Europe  re 
gard  me  as  a  person  of  sound  mind; 
neither  in  my  eyes,  my  talk,  nor  my  acts, 
do  you  perceive  traces  of  aberration  of 
mind,  which,  I  need  not  tell  so  distin 
guished  a  physician  as  yourself,  signifies 
divergence,  either  in  diminution  or  ex 
cess,  from  the  normal  condition.  What 
remains  is  this  simple  superstition  of — 
let  us  speak  plainly— second-sight ;  that 
is  to  say,  the  conviction  that  the  future 
is  revealed  to  certain  persons  in  dreams. 
That  is  all— is  it  not  ?  " 

"All,"  said  Dr.  Vandyke. 

"  Then  I  triumph  !     For,  demand  of 


your  reading,  your  study,  your  observa 
tion,  whether  the  world  is  not  full  of 
'vulgar  errors' — if  you  choose  to  call 
this  such.  Is  the  peasant  insane  who 
believes  that  the  hare  running  across  his 
path  brings  bad  fortune?  Is  the  sailor 
insane  who  believes  that  Friday  is  an  ill 
day  for  the  commencement  of  his  voy 
age  ?  Is  the  Irish  squire  insane  who  be 
lieves  that  the  banshee  cries  when  Death 
is  about  to  visit  his  household  ?  All  'be 
lieve — are  they  necessarily  insane  there 
fore  ?  Absurd,  irrational,  credulous,  you 
may  call  them;  but  are  they  really  in 
sane  ?  " 

"That's  good  sense,  I  grant  you," 
said  Dr.  Vandyke  ;  "  and  your  supersti 
tion—" 

"  Was,  doubtless,  instilled  into  me  by 
some  old  Highland  crone,  who  believed 
in  every  thing  and  nothing.  The  child's 
mind  is  wax — doubtless,  my  own  took 
the  imprint." 

Dr.  Vandyke  knit  his  brows. 

"And  you  yourself,  then,  consider  all 
this  second-sight  business  folly  and  moon 
shine?  "  he  said. 

Ruthven's  brows  were  knit  in  turn; 
and,  with  a  strange,  gloomy  look,  he 
said : 

"I  know  not!  How  ask  a  human 
being,  the  victim  of  superstition,  if  he  is 
superstitious  ?  I  reason,  simply — 'tis  for 
you  to  judge.  And  one  of  the  elements 
of  your  decision  must  be  the  rational  or 
irrational  character  of  my  reasoning." 

"Judging  thus,  you  are  sane,"  said 
Dr.  Vandyke.  "  No  pride  of  opinion 
shall  prevent  me  from  saying  that.  But 
— these  stubborn  Ituts! — tell  me  some 
thing  more  important." 

"  Speak,  doctor." 

"  This  second-sight— what  is  it  ?  " 

"The  future  seen  in  vision,"  replied 
Ruthven,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Seen  clearly?" 

"Clearly!" 

"  Recalled  clearly  when  you  awake?  " 

"  With  absolute  distinctness." 


THE  INTERVIEW  BETWEEN  LORD  RUTHVEN  AND  DR.  VANDYKE.          121 


"  All— faces,  places  ?  " 

"All !  "  said  Ruthven,  in  a  still  lower 
voice. 

Dr.  Vandyke  nodded. 

"Now,  but  one  thing  remains,"  he 
said — "  to  tell  me  what  your  vision,  as 
you  style  it,  has  been  in  connection 
with—" 

He  paused,  looking  at  Ruthven,  who 
was  as  pale  as  death. 

"  Speak  out,"  the  latter  whispered. 

"  In  connection  with  Honoria  Brand 
and  Edmund  Innis !  "  said  Dr.  Vandyke. 

Lord  Ruthven  breathed  heavily,  and 
made  no  reply.  Fully  five  minutes 
elapsed  before  he  could  speak.  Then  he 
said,  in  an  almost  inaudible  tone  : 

"  'Twas  to  tell  you  that,  or  to  let  yon 
read  something  I  have  written,  that  I 
asked  this  interview." 

"  To  read  something  ?  " 

"  This !  " 

And  Ruthven  drew  from  his  breast 
the  paper  which  he  had  written  on  that 
night  at  Williamsburg.  Dr.  Vandyke  ex 
tended  his  hand  to  take  it — his  eyes 
blazing  with  curiosity  —  but  Ruthven 
drew  back. 

"  A  moment !  "  he  said.  "  Before 
proceeding  further,  or  intrusting  this 
paper  to  you,  I  must  exact  a  promise." 

"  What  promise  ?  " 

"That  you  will  take  no  steps  to  ob 
struct  my  marriage !  " 

"  To  obstruct  your  marriage  ?  " 

"  You  may  otherwise  fancy  that  'tis 
—desirable — to  do  so." 

Dr.  Vandyke  looked  gloomily  at  the 
speaker,  whose  cheeks  had  filled  with 
blood. 

"  And  if  I  refuse  to  give  this  prom 
ise?" 

"  Your  perusal  of  this  paper  will  be 
impossible !  " 

"  I  will  give  no  promise !  " 

"So  be  it." 

And  Lord  Ruthven  restored  the  paper 
to  his  breast. 

"  Stop  !  "  said  Dr.  Vandyke,  for  his 


master  -  weakness,  curiosity,  overcame 
him.  "What  is  it  that  you  exact  as  a 
condition  precedent  to  my  reading  your 
statement  ? " 

"  That  you  shall  take  no  steps  what 
ever,  in  consequence  of  having  come 
into  possession  of  my  secret." 

"  What  steps  do  you  speak  of  ?  " 

"  Any  steps  !  " 

"I  am  to  remain  silent,  inactive— 
whatever  I  may  read  ?  " 

"  Yes ! " 

"  Impossible !  " 

Lord  Ruthven  inclined  his  head. 

"  As  you  will,  doctor.  But,  observe, 
that  your  ignorance  is  equally  disadvan 
tageous  with  your  obligation." 

"True,"  muttered  Dr.  Vandyke. 
With  a  hesitating  movement,  he  extend 
ed  his  hand. 

"  Give  it  me !  "  he  said. 

"  You  accept  the  condition  ?  " 

"  Yes !  " 

"  You  swear  upon  your  honor  to  re 
main  silent,  and  to  take  no  steps  what 
ever  to  place  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
my  marriage  with  Miss  Brand,  whatever 
you  may  read  in  this  paper  which  I  have 
written  ?  " 

"  I  swear !  " 

"Enough,  sir.  The  word  of  a  man 
like  yourself  is  sufficient.  Read !  " 

And,  unsealing  the  package,  he  ex 
tended  it  to  Dr.  Vandyke,  who  clutched 
it  eagerly,  and  began  to  read  by  the  light 
of  the  wax-candles  in  the  silver  cande 
labra  on  the  tall  mantel-piece.  Lord 
Ruthven,  meanwhile,  remained  erect 
near  the  mantel-piece,  upon  one  of 
whose  carved  ledges  he  leaned  his  el 
bow.  His  face  had  resumed  its  deep 
pallor,  and  his  dark  eyes  were  half 
closed,  the  long  lashes  drooping  toward 
the  cheeks. 

As  Dr.  Vandyke  proceeded  with  his 
perusal  of  the  document,  his  countenance 
gradually  lost  its  color,  and  his  lips  were 
closely  compressed,  or,  opening,  showed 
the  large  teeth  set  like  iron  beneath. 


122 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


When  approaching  the  middle  of  the 
paper,  these  evidences  of  emotion  be 
came  more  marked  and  striking.  Tow 
ard  the  end,  every  particle  of  blood 
faded  from  his  face,  his  bosom  labored 
with  long  breaths,  and,  suddenly  finish 
ing  the  paper,  he  whirled  it  from  him, 
raised  his  head,  and  exclaimed,  in  hoarse, 
imperious  tones — his  frame  shaking,  his 
eyes  blaziug : 

"You  have  laid  a  trap  for  me  !  You 
are — !  .Oh !  to  exact  that  oath  !  Mon 
strous  !  But  I  will  not  be  bound  by  it ! 
Before  I'll  stand  by,  silent,  and  permit 
this  marriage  to  proceed,  I  will — " 

Ruthven  stooped,  and  drew  from  the 
trunk,  in  which  Fergus  had  hidden  it, 
the  Highland  dirk. 

"  Here  is  the  very  weapon !  "  he  sai<?, 
in  his  deep  voice.  "  Strike !  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  drew  a  long  breath, 
shuddering  visibly. 

"  You  are  mad,  after  all ! "  he  mut 
tered,  hoarsely. 

"  I  am  as  sane  as  yourself!  " 

"I  will  reveal  the  contents  of  this 
accursed  paper !  " 

M  You  dare  not !  You  are  bound  by 
your  word  of  gentleman !  " 

"  And  you  would  have  rne  permit  this 
murderous — " 

Lord  Ruthven  extended  his  hand,  and 
placed  it  on  the  physician's  lips. 

"  Your  promise  !  "  he  said. 

Dr.  Vandyke  fell  heavily  into  a  chair, 
uttering  a  groan.  Lord  Ruthven  quietly 
refolded  the  paper,  sealed  it  again,  placed 
it  in  a  drawer  of  the  table  beside  him, 
and  said,  coldly : 

"  If  any  thing  should  happen,  remem 
ber  that  the  paper  is  there.  'Tis  my  vin 
dication  !  " 

He  shuddered  as  he  uttered  the  words 
"if  any  thing  should  happen,"  and 
looked  for  a  moment  at  Dr.  Vandyke  in 
silence. 

u  But,  what  can  happen  ?  "  he  con 
tinued,  in  a  deep,  firm,  measured  voice. 
"Do  you  think,  sir,  that  I  would  not 


plunge  this  dirk  into  my  heart  before- 
committing  that  crime  ?  And  ask  your 
self  another  question:  What  earthly 
motive  could  I  have  for  this  deed  without 
a  name?  Men  act  from  rational  mo 
tives — except  madmen  ;  and  you  declare 
that  I  am  not  mad  !  What  motive  here  ? 
He  has  left  the  country ;  and,  as  to  the 
other,  what  earthly  motive  could  impel 
me  to  a  deed  at  which  my  soul  revolts  ? 
I  love,  adore,  worship,  this  woman — I 
would  lie  down  and  die  to  save  her  from 
a  moment's  suffering!  And  yet — you 
think — you  dream  that  I  am  capable — 
without  motive,  I  say — without  motive!" 

"  Woe  to  you !  "  cried  Dr.  Vandyke, 
suddenly  bounding  up  and  confronting 
the  speaker — "  woe  to  you  if  you  take 
one  step  toward  the  commission  of  this 
horror!  I  am  old,  but  not  weak;  I 
would  slay  you  with  my  own  hand !  " 

'"And  you  would  do  right!  I  will 
not  resist !  But  listen." 

And  he  went  close  up  to  Dr.  Van 
dyke. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  said,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  if  there  be  truth  or  no  in  this 
forewarning — if  the  devil  will  or  will  not 
tempt  me  to  a  crime  without  conceivable 
reason  !  But  I  am  a  free  agent  to  a  cer 
tain  point.  This  horror  will  take  place, 
if  it  takes  place  at  all,  at  midnight. 
Well,  neither  at  midnight,  nor  at  any 
other  hour  between  the  marriage  cere 
mony  and  dawn,  shall  my  foot  be  placed 
in  that  chamber — do  you  hear,  doctor  ?  " 

Dr.  Vandyke  rose  erect,  and  looked 
at  the  speaker  with  blazing  eyes. 

"  Swear  it !  "  he  said. 

Before  Ruthven  could  reply,  a  knock 
was  heard  at  the  door,  and  Fergus  en 
tered. 

"  They  await  you,  my  lord,"  he  said ; 
"  the  bride  is  ready." 


THE  APPOINTMENT. 


123 


LII. 

UNDER   THE    OAK. 

DUEING  the  progress  of  these  scenes 
in  private  apartments  of  the  large  estab 
lishment,  numerous  guests  had  continued 
to  arrive,  and  the  night  was  full  of  noise. 

Chariot  after  chariot  rolled  up  to  the 
door,  depositing  portly  old  planters  in 
huge  ruffles,  smiling  old  dames  in  silk 
and  diamonds,  and  beautiful  damsels  in 
lace  and  satin,  with  pearls  in  their  hair, 
and  round  arms  sparkling  with  bracelets ; 
with  them  came  young  gallants  on  spir 
ited  horses.  All  hastened  in  out  of  the 
cold ;  and  the  great  mansion,  blazing 
from  garret  to  basement,  was  crowded 
with  a  gay  company,  from  which  rose  an 
incessant  buzz  and  uproar. 

The  disagreeable  scene  at  dinner  was 
not  alluded  to ;  jest  and  merriment  and 
laughter  resounded;  and  the  large  as 
semblage,  moving  to  and  fro  in  the  light 
of  the  candelabra,  was  the  picture  of  en 
joyment. 

Such  was  the  scene  within.  With 
out,  the  vast,  wild  landscape  slept  in  its 
snowy  shroud,  and  the  night  wind  swept 
along — a  ghostly  thing  on  invisible  wings 
— across  the  freezing  expanse,  to  die 
away,  with  a  low  moan,  in  the  dense 
evergreens. 

The  moon  had  risen  like  a  bloody 
shield,  and,  as  it  was  rolled  into  the  sky, 
poured  upon  the  dreary  waste  a  mourn 
ful  and  mysterious  light,  which  rendered 
the  snow  more  spectral,  and  the  scene 
more  forbidding.  The  lofty  pines  rose 
up  like  phantoms;  and,  at  certain  mo 
ments,  the  night  wind,  in  their  tufted 
heads,  resembled  the  low  cry  of  some 
creature  perishing  from  cold,  or  calling 
for  assistance  against  danger. 

The  contrast  between  this  sombre 
scene  and  that  within  Rivanna  was  star 
tling.  The  company  had  all  arrived  ; 
the  drivers  of  the  numerous  vehicles 
were  safely  housed,  like  their  masters, 
from  the  cold ;  and  silence  had  settled 


down  on  the  wild  waste  of  snow,  wrap 
ping  the  whole  earth  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  see. 

As  the  night  advanced,  there  appeared 
on  this  chill  expanse  a  single  human  fig 
ure — that  of  a  man  who  leaped  the  en 
closure  of  the  grounds  below  the  hill, 
crossed  the  expanse,  with  slow,  meas 
ured  steps,  and  reached  the  large  oak- 
tree  beneath  which  Honoria  and  Innis 
had  plighted  their  troth. 

Having  reached  this  spot,  the  new 
comer  stopped,  wrapped  his  cloak  closely 
around  his  shoulders,  and  leaned  against 
the  trunk — whose  shadow  concealed  him 
— looking  intently,  as  he  did  so,  toward 
the  great  mansion,  blazing  with  lights. 


LIII. 

THE   APPOINTMENT. 

HONOEIA  was  standing  before  the 
mirror  in  her  chamber,  surrounded  by 
the  brilliant  little  beauties,  her  brides 
maids,  who,  having  assiduously  aided  the 
young  lady  in  making  her  toilet,  now 
gazed  at  her  with  rapture.  The  senti 
ment  seemed  wholly  unaffected.  Hono- 
ria's  exquisite  but  girlish  beauty  had  sud 
denly  taken  to  itself  something  cold  and 
queenly,  and  it  was  only  on  a  careful 
scrutiny  that  the  rose  in  the  cheeks  was 
seen  to  be  a  hectic  flush,  and  the  calm 
ness  of  the  eyes  that  of  utter  despair. 

One  person  alone  understood  the 
young  lady's  feelings,  and  was  not  de 
ceived  by  this  ominous  calmness  —  her 
mother.  Lady  Brand  had  assisted  her 
daughter  in  dressing ;  had  trembled  at 
the  thought  of  what  she  must  pass 
through;  and  now  gazed  at  her  with 
deep  anxiety. 

"Be  calm,  dear — this  is  well,"  she 
said.  "  Come  now,  and  sit  down  and 
rest  before  the  ceremony." 

"I  am  not  tired,  mother,"  was  the 
young  lady's  reply,  "and  my  strength 
will  not  fail  me." 


124 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


Lady  Brand  shook  her  head  sadly. 
"  My  poor,  poor    child  I  "    she  mur 
mured,   "you  appear  calm,  but  you  are 
really  feverish,  agitated,  laboring  under 
nervous  excitement." 

A  strange  smile  came  to  the  young 
lady's  lips. 

"Excitement! — oh,  no!  mamma,  I 
am  perfectly  calm." 

"At  least  come  and  sit  down." 

"I  would  rather  stand,  mamma." 

Lady  Brand  sighed  deeply. 

u  But  you  must  positively  remain 
quiet :  a  few  moments  of  privacy,  to 
collect  your  thoughts,  my  child — " 

And  Lady  Brand  looked  at  the  brides 
maids,  who,  taking  the  hint,  quietly  left 
the  apartment.  As  the  last  disappeared, 
mother  and  daughter  exchanged  a  long 
look.  But  no  alteration  took  place  in 
the  young  lady's  demeanor.  She  was 
still  perfectly  calm,  but  this,  it  was  obvi 
ous,  arose  from  a  morbid  state  of  mind. 

"  My  child,"  exclaimed  Lady  Brand, 
"you  are  very,  very  unwell!  Come, 
lean  your  head  upon  my  bosom ;  it  will 
rest  and  soothe  you !  You  will  remember, 
perhaps,  the  time  when  you  were  a  little 
child,  and  dropped  to  sleep  there." 

The  fond  mother's  arms  were  extend 
ed,  but  Honoria  did  not  move. 

"  O  me  !  "  she  murmured.  "  I  am 
not  a  child ! — if  I  only  were  a  little  child 
again — !  " 

"  You  are  my  child  still,  my  own 
dear  little  one  1  " 

The  words  came  with  a  burst  of  grief 
from  the  trembling  lips. 

"Oome — lean  your  head  here! — it 
will  rest  you,  my  own  Honoria!  " 

But  the  young  lady  drew  back,  and 
the  same  strange  smile  again  came  to  her 
lips. 

"Lean  my  head  upon  your  breast, 
mamma !  "  she  said,  in  a  singular  voice. 
"How  can  you  propose  such  a  thing? 
'Twould  spoil  my  bonny  bridal  curls  and 
flowers." 

As  she    spoke,  she    pointed    to  the 


snowy  wreath  above  her  long  bridal  veil, 
and  began  to  sing  in  a  low  voice : 

" '  Oh  I  the  bonny,  bonny  bride, 
And  the  bonny,  bonny  flowers 
In  her  hair  1 ' " 

The  strange  intonation  of  the  girl's 
voice  made  her  mother  tremble. 

"  Come,  come,  Honoria !  "  she  ex 
claimed,  in  accents  of  displeasure,  "this 
is  out  of  place  !  " 

"What  is  out  of  place,  mamma  !  " 

"This  levity — this  unnatural  gayety. 
It  belies  your  feelings." 

"  Belies  my  feelings,  mamma  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes!  Honoria  —  you  never 
were  so  miserable !  " 

"Miserable?"  repeated  the  young 
lady,  with  the  same  strange  smile  on  her 
lips,  "  why,  what  an  idea !  Am  I  not 
about  to  become  the  '  happy  bride '  of  a 
very  great  nobleman — to  make  a  brill 
iant  match,  as  every  one  says?  I  shall 
soon  become  my  Lady  Ruthven  ! — and 
what  more  silly  than  to  feel  miserable  at 
being  made  a  countess  ?  " 

"My  child — my  child!  Your  voice 
is  strange !  You  are  not  in  your  right 
senses !  " 

"  Why  not,  mamma —  ?  " 

"Because  I  know  your  secret !— that 
you  look  with  horror  upon  this  mar 
riage  !  " 

Honoria  slowly  and  coldly  shook  her 
head. 

"With  horror?"  she  said;  "  I  look 
with  Jiorror  upon  my  approaching  mar 
riage?  Is  such  a  thing  conceivable, 
mamma?  Would  my  father,  who  says 
that  he  loves  me  dearly,  compel  me  to 
marry  thus  against  my  will?  Could  he 
possibly  make  his  poor  child  so  wretch 
ed  ?  Could  you — my  own  mother — !  " 

Honoria  suddenly  stopped.  Lady 
Brand  had  covered  her  face  with  both 
hands,  and  burst  into  tears.  For  a  mo 
ment-  the  girl  looked  at  her  in  silence, 
and  without  moving.  Then  suddenly 
she  ran  to  her,  broke  into  a  wild  flood 


THE  APPOINTMENT. 


125 


of  weeping,  and,  throwing  her  arms 
around  her  mother's  neck,  cried : 

UO  mamma!  mamma!  do  not  sob 
so  !  'Twill  break  my  poor  heart !  I  was 
undutiful,  unfeeling,  to  taunt  you  when 
'tis  not  your  fault !  Forgive  me,  mam 
ma  ! — no,  I  am  not  in  my  right  senses — 
I  am  wretched — out  of  my  head  almost. 
This  marriage  is  killing  me,  for  I  am 
going  to  perjure  myself  before  God  and 
man;  but  I  will  strive  to'  bear  all,  and 
not  make  you  more  unhappy,  mamma ! 
Forgive  me !  forget  my  wicked  words — 
I  love  you  so  dearly !  " 

Clinging  to  Lady  Brand,  she  buried 
her  face  in  her  mother's  bosom,  and 
sobbed  until  her  agitated  heart  grew 
calmer.  Tears  had  come  to  her  at  last, 
as  a  blessed  relief— the  burst  of  the  tem 
pest  relieved  her  overcharged  brain — 
and  her  mother  saw,  with  delight,  that 
the  dull  and  apathetic  look  had  disap 
peared  from  her  eyes.  Honoria  was 
quite  hopeless,  but  calm  and  resigned. 

"There,  there,  mamma,"  she  said, 
pressing  her  lips  to  her  mother's  cheek, 
"  do  not  remember  my  wild,  sinful  words, 
and  forget  that  I  rebelled  against  God, 
and  taunted  you,  when  I  ought  to  love 
and  obey  you,  and  treat  you  with  re 
spect.  I  am  very  unhappy,  mamma,  but 
— I  will  try  not  to  wound  you  again. 
You  see  I  am  quite  calm  now,  and — kiss 
me,  mamma — I  love  you  very,  very  dear 
ly,  and  soon — shall — see  you  no  more." 

The  head  sank,  and  Honoria  uttered 
a  single  sob.  It  was  the  last  cry  of  her 
despair.  Her  mother  could  only  whis 
per  as  she  held  her  close  : 

"  God  bless  and  keep  my  child,  and 
give  us  both  strength  to  bear  this  woe! 
for  I  know  all,  my  daughter — I  know, 
and  am  powerless  as  yourself.  Come, 
now  —  dry  your  eyes,  and  summon  all 
your  courage,  for  the  hour  is  near.  Let 
me  arrange  your  disordered  hair;  the 
idle  crowd  must  not  make  their  com 
ments." 

"Do  not  fear   me,"  said  the  young 


girl  with  sudden  calmness  and  stateli- 
ness.  "  I  know  what  my  blood  requires 
of  me,  and  will  not  fail.  And  now  will 
you  do  me  a  last  favor,  mamma?  Leave 
me  to  myself  for  a  few  moments.  I 
would  be  alone — have  no  fear,  mamma ; 
and  do  not  ask  me  why." 

Lady  Brand  looked  intently  at  her 
daughter,  and  said : 

"  Leave  you  alone  ?  " 

The  girl  smiled  sadly. 

"You  fear  Til  do  myself  some  mis 
chief,  perchance !  JSTo,  indeed !  There 
need  be  no  fear  of  that,  mamma.  I  shall 
die  of  this  marriage ;  but  not  now  !  Pray 
grant  my  request." 

Lady  Brand  rose. 

"  I  will  go,  then,  ray  child ;  but  re 
member  that  your  presence  will  soon  be 
required." 

With  which  words,  she  left  the  apart 
ment. 

Honoria  listened  to  the  light,  retreat 
ing  steps ;  went  quickly  to  the  door ; 
turned  the  key  without  noise  in  the  pon 
derous  old-fashioned  lock;  and  then, 
hastening  to  a  casket,  unlocked  it,  took 
out  a  paper,  and  read  it  hurriedly  by 
the  lights  on  her  toilet-table. 

The  paper  was  a  note,  which  a  ser 
vant  had  brought  on  the  day  before,  and 
ran  as  follows : 

"I  am  about  to  leave  Virginia  for 
ever  ;  but,  before  I  go,  I  must  see  you 
once  more,  or  die  of  despair.  I  cannot 
enter  Rivanna,  as  one  of  the  wedding- 
guests,  and  witness  your  marriage.  That 
would  kill  me,  or  drive  me  to  some  act 
of  madness  which  would  but  make  you 
still  more  unhappy.  Devise  some  other 
means — at  the  hour  and  spot  you  fix,  I 
will  be  present. 

"  These  are  calm  words,  are  they  not, 
for  a  man  whose  heart  is  breaking  ?  But 
the  hour  to  weep  and  rave  is  past,  and  I 
have  no  tears. 

"  Farewell  until  we  meet. 

"EDMUND  INNIS." 


126 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


In  reply  to  this  note,  Honoria  had 
written  three  lines,  intrusting  them  to 
the  servant,  who  saw  no  other  member 
of  the  family,  and  left  Rivanna  as  soon 
as  he  had  received  the  reply  : 

u  I  cannot  escape  from  the  company 
until  to-morrovv  night  —  my  wedding- 
niglit.  Come,  then,  to  the  oak-tree — 
where — that  day — O  me ! 

"HONORIA." 

Why  had  she  written  that  note,  for 
getting  the  cold,  the  snow,  the  almost 
utter  impossibility  of  keeping  the  ap 
pointment?  She  knew  not;  she  only 
felt  that  she  must  see  him  once  more,  or 
die.  She  now  hastily  read  the  note  of 
Innis  again,  and  thrust  it  into  her  bosom. 
Then  she  sat  down,  clinched  her  hands 
together,  and  gazed  into  the  fire. 

"I  will  go! — nothing  shall  fright 
me ! — Edmund,  Edmund !  " 

Suddenly  steps  were    heard  in  the 
passage,  and  a  hand  was  laid  upon  the 
knob.     Honoria  calmly  opened  the  door. 
Her  sister  had  come  to  summon  her. 
. "  I  am  ready,"  she  said. 


LIY. 

THE   MARRIAGE. 

THE  moment  had  come  for  the  per 
formance  of  the  marriage  -  ceremony. 
The  crowd,  filling  the  drawing-rooms, 
the  hall,  every  foot  of  space,  all  at  once 
ceased  their  uproar.  A  deep  silence  fol 
lowed  ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  this  silence, 
the  rustle  of  satin  trains  was  heard  at 
the  head  of  the  staircase,  like  a  breeze 
of  summer  rustling  the  long  blades  of 
corn.  An  instant  afterward  the  impos 
ing  bridal  party  descended  slowly,  the 
bridesmaids  leaning  upon  the  arms  of 
their  groomsmen,  the  ample  trains 
sweeping  the  polished  oak  of  the  stair 
case. 

The  bride  and  groom  came  last. 


Honoria  was  very  pale,  but  quite 
calm,  and  did  not  seem  to  require  the 
arm  of  Lord  Ruthven  to  support  her,  as 
she  scarcely  touched  it  with  one  of  her 
little,  white,  gloved  hands.  She  was  su 
perbly  dressed,  and  wore  a  profusion  of 
lace,  hereditary  in  the  family,  with  not 
a  few  jewels  of  great  value.  Her  air 
was  collected,  and  exhibited  no  emotion 
whatever.  Lord  Ruthven,  on  the  con 
trary,  evidently  labored  under  very  con 
siderable  agitation.  He  was  paler  even 
than  the  bride,  and  the  smile  which  he 
endeavored  to  assume  was  so  plainly 
forced  that  it  was  painful.  Once,  while 
descending  the  staircase,  he  turned  his 
head  quickly,  and  glanced  with  a  singu 
lar  expression  over  his  right  shoulder — a 
circumstance  which  was  afterward  spo 
ken  of,  and  commented  upon  in  various 
ways. 

The  bridal  train  entered  the  large 
drawing-room,  where  the  reverend  par 
son  of  the  parish  was  standing  in  his 
black  gown ;  and  the  bridesmaids  and 
groomsmen,  separating,  and  ranging 
themselves  in  two  opposing  lines,  left  an 
avenue  open  for  the  bride  and  groom, 
who  slowly  advanced  and  stood  before 
the  clergyman. 

Honoria  retained  her  surprising  calm 
ness—a  calmness  far  exceeding  that  of 
her  companion — and  the  ceremony  pro 
ceeded,  Colonel  Brand  giving  away  the 
bride. 

At  the  injunction  of  the  clergyman, 
that,  if  any  one  knew  just  cause  why  the 
ceremony  should  not  take  place,  they 
should  speak  then,  or  forever  after  hold 
their  peace,  it  was  observed  that  Honoria 
half  turned  her  head  with  a  sudden  look 
of  fright,  apparently  dreading  or  expect 
ing  some  interruption.  None,  however, 
took  place ;  Honoria  duly  bowed  her 
head,  murmuring  inaudibly  the  responses, 
and  a  prayer  ended  the  ceremony. 

Honoria  Brand  had  become  the  Count 
ess  of  Ruthven. 

Then  commenced  the  joyous  uproar 


THE   MARRIAGE. 


127 


customary  in  Virginia  upon  wedding  oc 
casions.  The  young  lady  found  her  cold, 
pale  lips  saluted  by  her  friends,  and  this 
evidence  of  regard  was  bestowed,  even 
upon  the  bridesmaids,  by  all  with  the 
slightest  claim,  from  consanguinity,  to 
that  privilege.  Lord  Ruthven  received 
his  share  of  the  congratulations  of  the 
company — the  low  bows  and  impressive 
hand-shakings  of  the  portly  old  nabobs, 
and  the  good  wishes  of  the  dames  their 
partners — with  profound  courtesy  and 
elaborate  smiles.  But  it  was  plain  that 
these  smiles  were  forced.  When  left  for 
a  moment  to  himself,  his  countenance 
assumed  a  singular  expression  of  haunt 
ing  gloom ;  and  twice  he  was  observed 
to  cast  the  strange,  furtive  glance  over 
his  right  shoulder  which  had  already  at 
tracted  the  attention  of  the  guests. 

As  the  night  drew  on,  and  the  hour 
of  supper  approached,  Honoria  was  seen 
to  look  more  than  once  toward  the  tall 
clock  in  the  hall,  and  to  glance  sidewise 
through  one  of  the  great  windows  tow 
ard  the  lawn  without.  Her  pale  cheek 
was  slightly  tinged  with  blood,  and  the 
eyes,  so  apathetic  throughout  the  cere 
mony,  betrayed  concealed  agitation.  At 
last  her  lips  were  compressed  in  a  man 
ner  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  she 
had  formed  some  resolution ;  and,  turn 
ing  to  her  mother,  who  was  standing 
near,  she  said : 

"  Mamma,  I  am  somewhat  tired  from 
standing  too  long.  Make  my  excuses  to 
any  one  who  inquires  for  me ;  I  will  re 
tire  for  a  little  while,  but  return  soon." 

"Very  well,  my  dear,"  said  Lady 
Brand,  who  was  not  unwilling  that  the 
young  lady  should  rest  for  a  short  time 
from  her  fatigue;  "  but  do  not  stay  long. 
Supper  will  be  ready  in  half  an  hour." 

"  Yes,  mamma,  I  will  be  ready." 

And  smiling  upon  the  company,  who 
made  way  for  her,  admiring  as  they  did 
so  her  now  rosy  cheeks,  Honoria  went 
np  the  broad  staircase  to  her  chamber,  in 
which  she  disappeared. 


The  uproar  in  the  great  drawing- 
room  had  now  become  deafening;  and 
perhaps  this  circumstance  was,  in  no 
slight  degree,  to  be  attributed  to  the  fre 
quent  visits  of  a  large  number  of  the 
guests  to  a  small  room  in  rear  of  the 
large  hall,  where  stood,  on  a  centre-ta 
ble,  an  enormous  punch-bowl,  filled  with 
arrack-punch,  flanked  by  a  mighty  array 
of  bottles  containing  mellow  old  Jamaica 
rum,  brandies,  and  the  richest  vintages  of 
sherry  and  canary.  A  huge  silver  ladle 
reposed  in  the  punch-bowl,  or,  rather, 
was  not  permitted  to  do  so  for  a  moment 
by  the  festive  visitors,  holding  out  im 
patient  tumblers ;  and  two  attentive 
servants,  silent,  rapid  in  their  move 
ments,  and  profoundly  deferential,  opened 
incessantly  the  wine  bottles,  and  hand 
ed  glasses  to  the  old  planters,  who  sipped 
in  a  stately  way,  and  loomed  above 
the  more  youthful  company,  tho  red 
and  important  old  faces  rising  over 
masses  of  white  neck-cloth  and  ruffles. 
In  this  room  the  crowd  was  continuous, 
the  noise  great;  when  the  visitors  re 
turned  to  the  drawing-room  they  smiled 
elaborately,  and  were  communicative  in 
the  highest  degree  upon  any  and  every 
subject. 

At  last  the  old  major-domo  opened 
the  door  of  the  dining-room  a  few  inches, 
and  respectfully  looked  at  Lady  Brand, 
to  signify  that  supper  was  ready.  Lady 
Brand  looked  around  for  Honoria,  but 
did  not  see  her;  and,  saying  to  Lord 
Ruthven,  as  she  passed  him,  "  Supper  is 
about  to  be  announced,  my  lord,"  she 
went  into  the  dining-room,  closing  the 
door. 

Ruthven  seemed  to  greet  the  an 
nouncement  that  supper  was  near — that 
is  to  say,  that  the  trying  evening  was 
coming  to  an  end— with  deep  satisfac 
tion  ;  and  looked  around  for  Honoria,  to 
whom  etiquette  required  that  he  should 
give  his  arm.  She  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen  ;  and,  thinking  that  she  might  have 
gone  out  into  the  hall,  from  the  great 


128 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


heat  of  the  immense  fire  in  the  drawing- 
room,  went  thither  to  find  her.  But  Ho- 
noria  was  not  in  the  hall. 

A  maid  was  passing  at  the  moment, 
and,  supposing  that  ITonoria  was  in  her 
chamber,  Lord  Ruthven  directed  the 
maid  to  go  thither,  and  inform  her  mis 
tress  that  the  company  was  about  to  go 
in  to  supper. 

The  maid  hastened  to  obey,  Lord 
Ruthven  waiting  her  in  "the  hall  ;  but  in 
a  few  minutes  she  returned  with  the  in 
formation  that  the  young  lady  was  not 
in  her  chamber. 

"  Not  in  her  chamber  ?  "  exclaimed 
Lord  Ruthven  ;  "  -where,  then,  can  she 
be?" 

The  great  front-door  suddenly  opened 
behind  him  as  he  spoke,  and  a  person, 
who  came  in,  heard  the  words.  Lord 
Ruthven  felt  a  hand  laid  upon  his  arm, 
and  a  low  voice  whispered  in  his  ear  : 

"Hush,  my  lord!  —  and  come  with 
me!" 


LY. 


THE    STEPS 


THE    SNOW. 


THE  voice  was  that  of  Fergus.  Ruth 
ven  turned  suddenly,  and  gazed  at  the 
old  Highlander  with  undisguised  aston 
ishment  and  vague  disquiet-;  and  the 
expresssion  of  the  ancient  servitor's 
countenance  was  not  calculated  to  dis 
pel  his  emotion.  The  weather-beaten 
face  was  flushed,  and  the  eyes  of  Fergus 
sparkled  with  wrath.  His  lips  were 
compressed  like  iron,  and  the  hand 
which  he  had  laid  upon  his  master's  arm 
was  so  heavy  and  unceremonious  —  so  in 
dicative  of  forgetfulness  of  every  form 
of  respect  —  that  Lord  Ruthven  felt  his 
heart  throb,  his  pulse  give  a  great  leap. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  said,  grasping  the 
Highlander  suddenly  by  the  arm. 

"  Hist  1  my  lord  —  make  no  noise  !  " 

"  Your  meaning?  You  are  no  child  !  " 
exclaimed  Ruthven;  "you  must  have 
good  reason  for  this  abrupt  address  !  " 


"I  have;  -of  that  yon  shall  judge! 
Follow  me,  my  lord." 

"  Go  on !  "  said  Lord  Ruthven. 

Fergus  glided  through  the  door ;  Ruth 
ven  followed,  and  it  closed  behind  them. 
They  had  passed,  in  three  steps,  into  an 
other  world,  as  it  were.  The  sepulchral 
glare  of  the  snow,  bathed  in  icy  moon 
light,  and  the  freezing  wind,  which  cut 
like  a  sharp  steel  blade  through  the  no 
bleman's  thin  silk  coat,  made  the  con 
trast  between  the  warm  apartments  with 
in  and  the  frozen  expanse  without  as 
striking  as  it  was  abrupt. 

But  Ruthven  did  not  heed  it  for  an 
instant.  A  vague  suspicion  fired  his 
frame,  and  sent  the  blood  boiling  to  his 
cheeks. 

"  Well !  "  he  said  to  Fergus. 

"  Follow  me,  my  lord !  " 

"Your  object?" 

"  To  show  you  something — come  ?  " 
-  Fergus  went  rapidly,  as  he  spoke, 
down  the  broad  steps;  turned  and  fol 
lowed  the  facade  of  the  mansion  ;  came 
in  sight  of  a  side-door,  opening  on  the 
lawn,  and,  looking  round,  exclaimed  : 

"  Your  lordship's  married  a  bonny 
bride !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  I  say !  Speak  1 " 
cried  Lord  Ruthven,  imperiously. 

"  That  will  I,  speedily,  my  lord. 
Where  is  the  countess  ?  " 

"  I  know  not !  " 

"  I  know." 

"  Where  ?  Your  meaning,  Fergus  ? 
—  Something  in  your  words  —  your 
voice — !  " 

"Yes,  yes  —  your  lordship  is  right. 
I  have  lost  my  coolness,  even  my  re 
spect  ;  and  yet,  I  must  go  further — I 
must  exact  a  promise  from  your  lord 
ship  !  " 

"A  promise!  The  meaning  of  all 
this  ?  Speak  if  you  would  have  me  re 
tain  my  senses !  " 

"Promise  that — you  will  not  slay  my 
lady." 

"  Slay ! — you  are  mad !  " 


THE  LAST   MEETING. 


129 


"I  am  in  my  senses — promise,  my 
lord !  " 

"I  promise  nothing,  and  I  command 
you  to  explain  your  words  !  Speak  !  or, 
by  Heaven.  I'll  tear  your  meaning  out  of 
your  very  heart !  " 

And  Rnthven  seized  the  old  servant 
by  the  throat,  shaking  him  with  such 
violence  that  he  seemed  about  to  strangle 
him. 

Fergus  made  no  remonstrance  what 
ever.  He  simply  gasped  for  breath,  and 
Ruthven  released  his  grasp. 

"  I  obey  your  lordship,  then,"  said 
Fergus.  "  I've  done  my  duty  at  least." 

"  Where  is  Lady  Ruthven  ?  " 

Fergus  started  down,  and  pointed  to 
the  snow. 

u  Look,  my  lord !  "  he  said. 

Ruthven  looked,  and  saw  the  imprint 
of  a  small  delicate  slipper  in  the  snow. 

"  There  is  another !  "  said  Fergus,  in 
a  low  tone,  "and  another  still.  The 
person  came  out  of  that  side-door;  it 
has  not  been  long  since,  you  see,  my 
lord,  as  the  wind  has  not  filled  the 
tracks  ;  and  you  can  tell  in  which  direc 
tion  the  person  went.  There  are  the 
steps !  " 

His  master  no  longer  listened.  With 
a  burning  cheek,  and  a  heart  which 
throbbed  almost  to  bursting,  Kuthven 
followed  the  delicate  footsteps  down  the 
hill,  the  moonlight  enabling  him  to  do  so 
without  difficulty.  Stooping  and  hasten 
ing  onward,  he  resembled  some  wild  ani 
mal  crouching,  and  ready  to  spring  upon 
his  prey.  Suddenly  a  cloud  passed  over 
the  moon,  and  the  dull  glare  of  the  snow 
barely  afforded  him  the  means  of  tracing 
the  steps.  It  was  sufficient,  however, 
and  Ruthven  rapidly  descended  the  slope, 
leaving  the  great  gate  far  on  his  left. 
All  at  once  a  deep  shadow  fell  upon  the 
marks  in  the  snow.  He  looked  up  and 
saw  a  great  oak,  distant  twenty  or  thirty 
paces. 

At  the  same  moment,  the  sound  of 
voices  was  heard  ;  and  a  voice  which  he 

9 


recognized    as    that   of    Honoria    mur 
mured  : 

"  I  will  love  you  in  life  and  death !  " 
Ruthven's    burning  glance    followed 
the  direction  of  the  sound,  penetrated 
the  shadow,  and  saw  Honoria  clasped  in 
the  arms  of  Edmund  Innis. 


LYI. 


THE    LAST    MEETING. 


had  kept  her  appointment. 

Ascending  the  staircase  rapidly,  after 
speaking  to  Lady  Brand,  she  had  reached 
her  chamber,  wrapped  a  cloak  around 
her,  and  descending  by  a  flight  of  stairs 
in  the  rear  of  the  hall  —  that  which  she 
had  used  on  the  night  of  the  dumb-cake 
ceremony  —  had  opened  the  side-door, 
gone  forth  into  the  freezing  night,  and 
hastened  down  the  hill  toward  the  great 
oak  under  which  Innis  awaited  her. 

Flying,  affrighted  and  trembling,  over 
the  snow  which,  at  any  other  time,  would 
have  made  her  feet  in  thin  satin  slippers 
ache  with  cold,  she  had  reached  the  tree, 
had  seen  the  figure  of  Innis  hasten  toward 
her;  and  had  fallen,  weak,  overwhelmed, 
and  powerless  to  bear  up  under  her  emo 
tion,  into  the  outstretched  arms  of  her 
lover. 

Then  followed  one  of  those  scenes 
which  the  pen  cannot  describe,  and  the 
imagination  only  can  form  any  concep 
tion  of.  Forgetting  all  the  world  besides 

—  her  past,  her  present,  and  her  future 

—  remembering  only  that  the  human  be 
ing  whom  she  loved  with  such  unspeak 
able    tenderness  was    before  her  ;    and 
obeying  the   resistless    impulse    driving 
her,  like  a  weary,  storm-lost  dove,  into 
his  sheltering  arms,  she  clung  closely  to 
him,  clasped  him  wildly  to  her  bosom, 
and  exhausted  on  him  every  term  of  en 
dearment,  in    one  passionate    outburst, 
which  she  made  no  effort  to  control. 

And  Innis,  broken-hearted  and  de 
spairing,  could  only  reply  in  broken 


130 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


words.  His  great  woe  came  upon  him 
at  this  last  conclusive  moment,  with  an 
intenser  bitterness  than  ever  before. 
The  sense  of  what  he  had  lost  sent  a 
chill  to  his  very  heart,  and  a  cruel,  mad 
despair  was  mingled  with  the  delicious 
happiness  of  the  girl's  caresses. 

For  many  moments  they  thus  re 
mained,  locked  in  each  other's  arms, 
murmuring  words  of  endearment,  and 
striving  to  control  their  passionate  agi 
tation.  Innis  was  the  first  to  succeed  in 
this,  and,  choking  down  violently  a  groan 
which  had  risen  to  his  pale  lips,  he  said 
in  a  trembling  voice : 

"  I  thank  you  for  this  last  meeting, 
my  own  darling.  I  may  call  you  so  now 
— 'tis  the  last  time ;  and  now  you  must 
go  back ;  you  must  not  stay  here  longer 
in  this  bitter  cold !  I  felt  as  though  I 
should  have  died  without  these  few  last 
words  with  you — these  kisses  you  have 
given  me — and  now  I  can  say  farewell !  " 

He  tried  to  unclasp  the  arms  of  the 
girl,  but  she  resisted. 

"  Oh,  no !  no !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  a 
voice  interrupted  by  sobs,  "  we  need  not 
part  so  soon!  Why  must  we  part? " 

"  They  will  miss  you,  and  wonder  at 
your  absence;  and  this  bitter  night! 
Your  poor,  dear  little  feet  in  their  thin 
slippers! — they  will  freeze!  Yes,  you 
must  go,  my  darling ;  we  must  part  now. 
I  am  calmer  than  I  was ;  almost  happy, 
dear.  My  heart  was  black  with  evil 
thoughts,  with  hatred,  and  all  bitterness. 
I  doubted  God,  and  man,  and  woman. 
I  was  desperate,  and  meditated  desperate 
things  ;'but  I  have  seen  your  dear,  good 
face,  my  own  Honoria ;  I  have  heard 
your  voice,  and  I  think  I  can  bear  my 
misery.  Farewell,  now — you  must  go; 
but  tell  me  once  more  that  you  will  not 
forget  your  poor  cousin,  however  far 
away  from  you  I  may  be  ;  that  you  will 
pray  for  me,  and  try  not  to  grieve  over 
what  might  have  been !  Promise  this, 
Honoria — my  love — my  lost  love — and 
I  shall  be' almost  happy !  " 


It  was  in  reply  to  these  words  that 
Honoria,  raising  her  head  from  his  bos 
om,  and  letting  it  fall  back  upon  his 
shoulder,  had  uttered  in  a  murmur  the 
words — 

"I  will  love  you  in  life  and  death!  " 

As  the  words  escaped  from  her  lips, 
the  moon  emerged  from  the  black  cloud 
which  had  concealed  it,  and  Innis  heard 
the  sound  of  footsteps.  He  raised  his 
head  quickly,  looked  in  the  direction  of 
the  sound,  and  Honoria's  eyes  turned 
toward  the  same  quarter. 

Lord  Euthven  and  Fergus  were  with 
in  a  few  paces  of  her,  easily  recognized 
by  the  moonlight ;  and  with  a  low  cry 
she  fell  back  in  the  arms  of  Innis,  and 
fainted  upon  his  breast. 


LVIL 

THE    ADVERSAEIES. 

EUTHVEN  did  not  rush  upon  Innis,  or, 
indeed,  betray  any  evidence  whatever  of 
violent  emotion.  A  sudden  and  strange 
calmness  seemed  to  have  succeeded  his 
wild  rage.  •  He  had  apparently  reached 
that  stage  when  men  grow  pale  instead 
of  red,  cold  instead  of  violent ;  and  when 
the  mind,  discarding  all  mere  flurry  and 
passion,  decides  coolly  and  in  silence 
upon  the  course  to  be  pursued. 

The  deadly  glance  of  the  young  no 
bleman's  dark  eyes,  and  the  ashy  pallor 
of  his  lips,  alone  indicated  the  depth  of 
his  wrath ;  his  voice,  when  he  spoke, 
was  firm  and  measured. 

"It  is  quite  unnecessary  to  hold  me 
back,"  he  said  to  Fergus,  who,  knowing 
the  terrible  strength  of  his  master's  pas 
sions  when  they  were  once  aroused,  had 
seized  his  arm  to  restrain  him  from  ad 
vancing  farther.  "  I  do  not  purpose  do 
ing  any  thing  rash.  Remove  your  hand 
from  my  arm,  and  remain  where  you 
now  are,  until  you  receive  further  orders 
from  me." 

Fergus  released  the  grasp  on  his  mas- 


THE  ADVERSARIES. 


131 


ter's  arm,  and  Ruthven  advanced  slowlj 
and  deliberately  until  he  closely  confront 
ed  Honoria  and  Innis.  The  latter  had 
quickly  regained  his  coolness,  and  re 
turned  Ruthven's  fixed  and  icy  glance 
with  a  look  of  the  same  description. 

"I  will  relieve  you  of  Lady  Rutbven, 
sir,"  said  the  young  nobleman  ;  "  as  the 
night  is  unpleasantly  cold,  and  in  so  thin 
a  dress,  she  might  suffer  inconvenience 
from  further  exposure.  I  shall  escort 
her  ladyship  to  the  house,  and,  as  it  will 
be  necessary  to  have  a  brief  discussion 
with  you  afterward,  sir,  shall  beg  you 
to  await  my  return  without  moving 
from  this  place.  May  I  count  upon  you, 
sir?" 

"  You  may,  my  lord !  "  returned  In 
nis,  in  an  ardent  tone.  There  was  no 
doubt  of  the  intention  of  Ruthven.  His 
eye  said  all ;  and  Innis  greeted  the 
thought  of  mortal  combat  with  his  suc 
cessful  rival  with  a  thrill  of  fierce  satis 
faction. 

As  he  spoke,  Honoria  opened  her 
eyes,  and  returned  to  consciousness.  Her 
glance  met  the  cold  eyes  of  Ruthven 
fixed  upon  her  ;  she  understood  all ;  and 
suddenly  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  agony : 
"  Oh,  I  am  innocent  of  intended 
wrong ! — It  was  but  for  a  moment — one 
last  meeting— I  had  to  bid  him  good-by ! 
— Edmund! — my  lord — !" 

"Enough,  madam!"  said  Ruthven, 
abruptly,  a  species  of  contortion  passing 
over  his  dark  face.  "  With  your  permis 
sion  we  will  not  discuss  this  subject  fur 
ther  at  present !  " 

He  advanced,  as  he  spoke,  took  the 
young  lady's  hand,  placed  it  upon  his 
arm,  and,  exchanging  with  Innis  a  mean 
ing  glance,  reconducted  Honoria  toward 
the  house,  followed  by  Fergus.  No 
words  were  exchanged  between  the 
bridegroom  and  bride  upon  the  way. 
Honoria  was  sobbing — from  Ruthven's 
lips  no  sound  issued. 

Following  the  steps  in  the  snow,  they 
reached  the  side-door,  through  which 


Honoria  had   gained  the  lawn.      Here 
Ruthven  stopped,  and  said  : 

"As  you  doubtless  desire  to  observe 
the  proprieties,  and  avoid  all  scandal, 
madam,  it  will  be  best  to  enter  by  this 
door  and  gain  your  chamber.  Supper  is 
ready  to  be  announced;  and  I  will  at 
tend  you  at  the  foot  of  the  great  stair 
case." 

Honoria  bowed  her  head,  and,  reply 
ing  only  with  a  low  sob,  entered  the  side- 
door,  and  closed  it  behind  her.  Ruthven 
then  went  around  to  the  front  of  the 
house,  ascended  the  broad  steps,  care 
fully  removed  from  his  boots  all  traces 
of  snow,  and,  opening  the  great  door, 
entered.  His  entrance  did  not  attract 
attention,  and  he  had  reached  the  thresh- 
hold  of  the  drawing-room,  when  he  en 
countered  Colonel  Brand. 

"We  were  looking  for  you,  my  lord, 
as  supper  is  ready;  and,  strangely 
enough,  Lady  Ruthven  also  is  not  to  be 
found." 

"  She  has  retired  to  her  chamber,  in 
all  probability,  sir." 

"I  think  not." 

And  Colonel  Brand  turned  to  look 
for  Lady  Brand  to  ask.  Time  was  thus 
afforded  the  young  lady  to  reach  her 
chamber,  divest  herself  of  her*  cloak,  sup 
press  her  agitation,  and  descend.  Lord 
Ruthven  met  her  at  the  foot  of  the  stair 
case,  as  he  had  promised,  offered  his  arm, 
with  a  profound  inclination  ;  and,  supper 
being  announced  at  the  same  moment, 
the  bridal  party,  followed  by  the  guests, 
entered  the  great  dining  -  room.  The 
apartment  was  one  blaze  of  lights,  and 
this  brilliant  flood  fell  upon  a  table  ex 
tending  nearly  the  whole  length  of  the 
room,  and  groaning  with  its  burden  of 
substantials  and  delicacies  of  every  im 
aginable  description.  Meats,  game,  con 
fections  —  each  in  a  do/en  varieties, 
and  a  dozen  methods  of  serving — pyra 
mids  of  cake,  and  exotic  fruits,  ices, 
jellies,  and,  on  a  side-table,  coffee,  tea, 
"  strong- waters,"  the  richest  wines — 


132 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


such  formed  a  portion,  and  only  a  por 
tion,  of  the  entertainment  offered  by 
Colonel  and  Lady  Brand  to  their  guests. 

The  crowd  flocked  in,  noisy,  joyous, 
full  of  laughter  ;  and  few  paid  any  atten 
tion  to  the  bride  and  groom.  Those  who 
did  so,  however,  afterward  spoke  of  Lord 
Rutkven's  courtly  attention  to  his  bride. 
He  waited  upon  her  most  assiduously; 
and,  but  for  a  strange  glitter  of  the  eyes, 
was  the  model  of  an  overjoyed  bride 
groom.  That  metallic  glitter  was  not  in 
viting,  it  is  true,  and  was  afterward  re 
membered  ;  but,  for  the  moment,  all  was 
joy  and  uproar. 

One  person  only  was  not  so  easily  de 
ceived.  With  eyes  sharpened  by  tender 
ness  for  her  daughter,  Lady  Brand  saw 
the  evidences  of  deep,  suppressed  emo 
tion  ;  and,  knowing  that  Honoria  had  not 
been  in  her  chamber  ten  minutes  before 
her  reappearance,  sought  an  opportunity 
now  to  question  her,  and  hear  a  solution 
of  the  mystery.  This  design  of  Lady 
Brand  seemed,  however,  to  be  penetrated 
by  Lord  Ruthven,  who  persistently  re 
mained  by  Honoria,  or  returned  instantly 
if  forced  to  leave  her ;  and  when  the  fond 
mother,  weary  of  this  struggle  of  wits, 
addressed  a  plain  question  to  the  young 
lady,  Ruthven  replied,  quickly,  with  a 
singular  smile : 

"  No,  madam !  I  beg  you  will  not  in 
sist  upon  your  question.  Your  daughter 
is  Lady  Ruthven  now,  and  is  entitled  to 
have  her  own  secrets !  " 

Lady  Brand  looked  earnestly  at  the 
speaker,  but  his  face  was  impenetrable. 

"  Well,  my  lord,"  she  said,  gloomily, 
"  'tis  for  you  to  decide  ;  but  you  will  let 
me  say  that  the  augury  is  not  happy 
when  the  bride  begins  by  having  secrets 
from  her  own  mother." 

Ruthven  did  not  reply,  and  soon  af 
terward  the  company  began  to  move 
back  toward  the  drawing-roorn,  whither 
the  bride  and  bridegroom  led  the  way — 
Honoria  pale  and  faint — Ruthven  cold, 
firm,  and  impassive. 


Lord  Ruthven  led  his  bride  to  a  seat 
near  the  fire,  and  then  made  her  a  low 
bow.  With  her  permission,  he  said  he 
would  return  to  the  supper-room ;  and, 
passing  through  the  crowd,  with  a  formal 
smile  on  his  lips,  he  reached  the  hall. 
He  did  not  go  thence,  however,  to  the 
supper-room,  but  to  his  chamber,  where 
Fergus  was  seated,  his  elbows  on  his 
knees,  his  face  sunk  in  his  hands. 

"Come,  quick! — the  swords!"  said 
Ruthven.  "  I  have  worn  none  to-night ; 
but  there  are  two  of  the  same  length !  " 

Fergus  faltered  out : 

"  Your  lordship  will  not — !  Think! 
after  all,  'twas  but— !  " 

"Silence! — obey  the  order  I  give 
you  !  The  dress-swords,  and  my  cloak !  " 

Dominated  by  the  imperious  voice 
and  flaming  eyes,  Fergus  drew  from  one 
of  the  trunks,  with  a  trembling  hand, 
two  dress-swords,  which  Ruthven  seized. 
The  latter  then  threw  a  cloak  around  his 
shoulders,  concealed  the  swords  beneath 
it,  and,  saying  imperiously  to  Fergus — 
"  Remain  here  ;  I  command  you  !  "  went 
hastily  out  of  the  room.  He  had  taken 
notice  of  the  position  of  the  side-door, 
through  which  Honoria  had  reentered. 
This  he  now  gained  by  the  back  stair 
case,  for  the  moment  quite  deserted, 
opened  the  door,  passed  through,  closed 
it  behind  him,  and  went  rapidly  down 
the  hill  toward  the  oak. 


LVIII. 

THE   COMBAT. 

INNIS  had  not  stirred  from  the  spot. 

What  thoughts  had  passed  through 
the  mind  of  the  despairing  young  man, 
as  he  waited  in  the  freezing  cold,  with 
Honoria's  innocent  kisses  yet  warm  upon 
his  lips,  and  a  bloody  combat  with  her 
husband  imminent  ?  Despair  is  a  strange 
stimulant,  and  Innis  had  little  hope  left 
him  in  the  world.  Burnt  up  by  harsh 
and  gloomy  emotion — seeing  nothing  in 


1 

a 
c 

n 


THE   COMBAT. 


133 


the  future  for  him  but  hopeless  misery — 
he  greeted  almost  with  joy  the  coming 
struggle,  which  would  probably  end  his 
life  and  his  woes  together.  That  such  a 
struggle  was  near  he  had  no  doubt  what 
ever  —  a  single  combat  with  swords, 
doubtless ;  and  as,  like  all  young  gentle 
men  at  that  time,  he  had  been  taught 
the  use  of  the  rapier,  there  would  be  no 
obstacle. 

Suddenly  Ruthven's  figure  appeared 
in  the  moonlight.  He  almost  rushed  tow 
ard  Innis,  reached  him,  and  exclaimed, 
in  a  hollow  tone  : 

"  It  is  well,  sir !  You  keep  your  word 
at  least !  You  will  not  add  cowardice  to 
treachery !  " 

"  Treachery,  sir  !  "  cried  Tnnis  — 
"cowardice!  Beware,  sir!  By  Heav 
en,  if  you  insult  me  thus,  I'll  throw  my 
self,  weaponless  as  I  am,  upon  you,  and 
tear  you  to  pieces !  " 

Ruthven  threw  back  his  cloak. 
"Here   are  two   swords!"   he   said, 
"  of  equal  length  and  good  temper.     You 
are  not  weaponless,  sir,  since  one  is  for 
you !  " 

And  he  hurled  it  at  Innis's  feet  in 
the  snow,  his  eyes  burning  with  lurid 
fire. 

The  young  man  stooped  quickly,  and 
caught  it  by  the  hilt. 

"  Thanks  !  "  he  said  ;  "  this  combat 
need  not  be  delayed,  then." 

"No!  here  and  now !   Here,  where — " 
And,  with  an  expression   of  deadly 
menace,    Lord    Ruthven    took    a    step, 
sword  in  hand,  toward  his  enemy. 

"A  moment,  my  lord! — there  is  time 
enougli !  "     said    Innis,  in    a    cold   and 
gloomy  tone.     "  As  one  or  both  of  us 
will  probably  be  dead  in  an  hour  from 
this  time,  a  few  words  are  necessary." 
"  I  want  none !     Defend  yourself!  " 
The  sharp  point  glittered  in  front  of 
the  young  man's  breast ;  but  he  remained 
perfectly  motionless. 

"  I  say  that  these  words  are  neces 
sary,"  he  replied,  in  the  same  gloomy 


tone.  "  What  you  mean  by  treachery  I 
am  unable  to  understand,  sir !  We  were 
mere  acquaintances — I  never  professed 
to  be  your  bosom  friend ;  and  if  there 
be  wrong  done,  who  is  guilty  of  that 
wrong?" 

"  Enough— !  " 

"  You  shall  hear  me !  and,  as  I  may 
be  driven  to  rage,  I'll  speak  first  of  what 
is  most  important,"  said  Innis.  "  You 
are  so  ignorant  of  the  person  who  is  now 
Lady  Ruthven,  that  you  madly  dream 
that  she  could  be  guilty  of  an  impure  ac 
tion  !  That  is  the  madness  of  jealousy, 
and  suspicion,  sir — naught  else !  Honoria 
is  as  pure  as  that  snow  ;  as  the  moon 
above  you  I  Her  sole  fault,  if  it  be  a 
fault,  has  been  her  imprudence  in  grant 
ing  me,  to-night,  at  my  urgent  request, 
a  few  moments  to  say  farewell,  before 
we  parted  forever.  I  am  about  to  leave 
Virginia — I  loved  her — you  know  that — 
I  besought  her  to  see  me  for  an  instant 
before  I  went ;  she  was  here  for  a  little 
space,  thus,  at  my  own  solicitation ;  and 
had  you  not  come,  the  young  lady  and 
myself  would  have  parted — 

"  With  a  last  embrace !  with  kisses ! — 
with  caresses! — with  'love  in  life  and 
death  !  '  Your  sword,  sir !  This  shall 
end !  " 

"A  single  moment  more,  sir,"  Innis 
replied,  with  the  same  immovable  cold 
ness,  but  a  bitterness  in  his  tone.  "  Your 
lordship  is  the  lucky  one,  and  can  afford 
to  listen  an  instant,  if  only  to  prevent 
misunderstanding  when  our  ghosts  meet 
in  another  world  !  Well,  before  she  met 
you.  Lady  Ruthven  was  engaged  to  be 
married  to  me.  You  did  not  know  that. f. 
'Tis  true,  sir  ;  and  the  circumstance  was 
not  so  astonishing.  We  were  cousins, 
had  been  playmates  all  our  lives  he-re  at 
Rivanna;  and  before  she  went  to  Wil- 
liamsburfi,  where  she  first  saw  you,  plight 
ed  her  faith  to  me  here  under  tin*  very 
oak-tree,  where  she  came  to  bid  me  fare 
well  to-night.  That  is  a  bitter  memory 
to  the  poor,  unhappy  man  who  spenks  to 


104 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


you — must  it  not  be,  sir  ?  Well,  I  soon 
saw  that  Honoria  was  not  to  choose  her 
mate.  You  paid  your  adTiresses,  and  I 
asked  for  her  hand.  Her  father  refused 
me — I  was  very  poor  ;  and  accepted  you. 
Did  the  young  lady  ?  And,  in  spite  of 
all,  I  was  going  away,  now — after  these 
few  words  of  farewell. 

"  That  is  the  history  of  three  per 
sons,  sir — one  happy,  the  other  two  mis 
erable.  As  to  this  meeting,  I  repeat,  sir, 
that  it  was  my  fault,  and  meant  nothing. 
You  speak  of  kisses — in  Virginia,  young 
ladies  kiss  kinsmen.  I  was  this  one's — 
she  was  innocent  as  an  angel — do  not 
give  the  devil  that  triumph  of  believing 
Honoria  Brand  other  than  purity  itself! 
And  now  I've  done,  my  lord.  If  there 
be  fault  in  any  one,  the  fault  is  mine. 
Spend  your  wrath  on  me  ;  for  that  wrath 
I  care  nothing,  as  I  care  nothing  for  my 
life.  Just  now,  when  you  used  the  word 
treachery,  I  wished  to  kill  you.  Now, 
you  may  kill  me,  if  you  choose,  sir — my 
life  is  a  matter  of  indifference  to  me,  I 
am  too  miserable ;  but  I  charge  you,  on 
your  honor  as  a  gentleman,  to  absolve 
my  cousin !  " 

"•  Have  you  done,  sir?  " 

The  brief,  stern  words  rang  out  sud 
denly,  leaving  no  doubt  of  Ruthven's 
intention.  His  resolve  was  unshaken. 
Hatred,  jealousy,  blood-thirstiness — all 
this  was  written  in  his  eyes. 

"  Your  lordship  is  bent  on  killing  me, 
then?  "  said  Innis,  as  coldly  as  before. 

Lord  Ruthven's  reply  was  to  rush 
upon  his  adversary,  and  to  lunge  straight 
at  his  heart.  Innis  parried  the  blow; 
and  a  brief  combat  followed — bitter,  des 
perate,  breast  to  breast.  Suddenly  In- 
nis's  sword  snapped,  and  the  foes  grap 
pled  and  fell  —  Lord  Euthven  beneath 
his  adversary.  They  were  body  to  body, 
face  upon  face,  panting  and  bloody.  Then 
Innis  uttered  a  low  cry,  his  hold  relaxed, 
and  he  fell  forward,  a  torrent  of  blood 
gushing  from  his  bosom. 

Ruthven,  who  had  retained  his  clutch 


of  his  sword,  had  shortened  it  quickly, 
and  driven  the  point  by  main  force  into 
his  adversary's  breast. 

He  rose,  breathing  heavily,  and 
looked  at  the  body  lying  on  the  bloody 
snow. 

All  movement  had  ceased. 

"  So  much  is  done,"  said  the  noble 
man  in  a  low,  hollow  voice;  "now  let 
me  go  back  to  my  bonny  bride !  " 

His  lip,  writhed  as  he  spoke,  and  the 
strange  wild  glitter  of  the  eye  was  horri 
ble.  On  this  face,  resembling  a  mask  of 
Hate,  was  written  a  terrible  resolution. 


LIX. 

THE    BEIDAL    CHAMBEE. 

IT  was  now  eleven  o'clock,  as  ah1 
could  see  by  the  minute-hand  of  the 
great  ghostly  clock  ticking  in  the  hall, 
and  the  wedding-guests  began  to  take 
their  departure  with  many  congratula 
tions,  addressed  to  Lord  Ruthven  and 
his  bride,  who  stood  beside  colonel  and 
Lady  Brand  in  the  middle  of  the  draw 
ing-room. 

Lord  Ruthven  was  fearfully  pale,  and 
the  strange  glitter  of  his  eyes  had  not 
disappeared.  He  had  gained  his  cham 
ber  by  the  door  in  the  rear,  divested  him 
self  of  his  cloak,  and  descended  just  as 
Dr.  Vandyke  disappeared  through  a  door 
leading  to  Meta's  chamber,  whither  he 
had  been,  summoned  hastily  by  intelli 
gence  that  the  child  had  been  taken  sud 
denly  ill. 

A  terrible  smile  passed  across  Ruth 
ven's  pale  lips,  as  the  physician  disap 
peared,  and  he  hastened  to  join  the 
company.  The  leave  -  taking  was  gone 
through  with,  and  the  guests  entered 
their  coaches  awaiting  them  in  front  of 
the  portico.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  after 
ward  the  last  chariot  had  rolled  away 
from  the  door;  the  members  of  the 
household  retired;  and  the  great  man 
sion,  lately  so  noisy  and  brilliant,  was 


THE  BRIDAL   CHAMBER. 


135 


as  still  and  dark  as  a  haunted  house, 
from  which  all  human  occupants  have 
fled,  leaving  it  to  the  mysterious  tenants 
of  the  darkness. 

In  this  profound  and  almost  painful 
silence,  no  sound  was  heard  but  the  sub 
dued  murmur  of  the  river  beyond  the 
pine-clad  hill,  and  the  measured  ticking 
of  tbe  tall  clock  in  the  hall;  no  light 
was  visible  but  the  spectral  gleam  of  the 
setting  moon,  which,  passing  through  a 
narrow  window  in  front  of  the  great 
door,  lit  up  the  white  dial-plate  of  the 
clock,  making  it  resemble  a  ghost. 

Slowly  the  "tick — tick,"  resounded 
with  a  dull,  monotonous  sound,  through 
the  deserted  hall — slowly  the  black  hand 
moved  over  the  white  face,  second  after 
second,  minute  after  minute. 

"Tick,  tick!— tick,  tick!" 

It  was  ten  minutes  of  midnight  now. 

The  hand  crawled  slowly,  the  monot 
onous  sound  went  on,  never  faster,  never 
slower,  like  a  metallic  fate,  careless  of 
what  was  near  at  hand. 

"  Tick,  tick !— tick !  tick  !  " 

It  was  five  minutes  of  midnight  now 
— four  minutes — three  minutes — 

The  last  rays  of  the  moon,  dim,  mys 
terious,  bloody,  were  on  the  ghostly 
face :  the  black  hand  was  on  the  stroke 
of  midnight,  when  a  door  opened  vio 
lently  in  the  direction  of  Meta's  chamber, 
and  Dr.  Vandyke  rushed  into  the  vacant 
hall. 

At  the  same  instant,  a  sudden  and  ter 
rible  scream  issued  from  the  chamber  of 
Lady  Ruthven. 

The  clock  struck  midnight.  As  the 
hammer  fell,  the  door  of  the  bride's 
chamber  opened  violently,  a  dark  figure 
rushed  down  the  staircase  nearly  over 
turning  the  physician,  who  vaioly  at 
tempted  to  grapple  with  and  arrest  it — 
the  great  door  opened  and  closed  with  a 
clash;  and  past  the  window  of  the  bridal 
chamber — past  the  delicate  footprints  in 
the  snow — past  the  oak  where  a  dusky 
object  was  stiffening  in  the  freezing 


winter  night — past  tree  and  rock,  lit  up 
by  the  bloody  light  of  the  sinking  moon — 
the  dark  figure,  followed  headlong  now 
by  another  figure,  disappeared  in  the 
gloomy  night. 

The  second  figure  was  that  of  Fergus, 
who,  issuing  forth  from  the  side-door  of 
the  mansion,  had  hastened  with  the 
speed  of  a  deer  upon  the  track  of  his 
master. 

The  fearful  scream  from  Lady  Ruth- 
ven's  chamber  had  aroused  the  entire 
household.  In  a  few  minutes,  the  up 
per  hall  was  filled  with  trembling  fig 
ures  in  night  -  dresses  uttering  cries, 
and  demanding  the  origin  of  the  alarm. 
Through  the  agitated  group,  Lady  Brand, 
wrapped  in  her  dressing  -  robe,  hurried 
to  Honoria's  chamber,  her  heart  throb 
bing  violently,  her  cheeks  as  pale  as 
ashes. 

Through  the  door-way  came  a  hollow 
moan.  She  hastened  into  the  chamber, 
only  illumined  by  a  few  chance  gleams 
of  the  dying  fire,  and  the  last  red  rays 
of  the  moon ;  and,  as  she  did  so,  heard 
the  low  words — 

"Mother!  mother!  " 

Suddenly  she  felt  her  bare  feet — for 
in  her  haste  she  had  not  put  on  her  slip 
pers — touch  something  moist. 

She  stooped — touched  the  floor — and 
held  up  her  finger. 

It  was  blood. 

With  a  wild,  awful  cry,  she  called  for 
lights.  They  were  all  ready  at  the  door 
in  the  hands  of  the  affrighted  household; 
and  a  spectacle  of  unspeakable  horror 
was  revealed  to  all  eyes. 

Lady  Ruthven  was  extended  upon 
the  couch,  which  it  was  obvious  she  only 
had  occupied  —  her  head  hanging  luu-k 
like  a  wounded  bird's,  the  bosom  of  her 
snowy  night-dress  stained  with  blood — 
and  the  flow  of  blood  had  been  so  pro 
fuse  that,  lying  as  slit-  did  upon  the  cdiru 
of  the  bed,  it  had  reached  the  floor,  and 
extended  in  a  long,  narrow  stream  tow 
ard  the  chair  before  the  fire,  upon  which 


136 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


the  young  lady  had  deposited  her  gar 
ments  when  she  retired. 

The  awful  climax  to  this  scene  of  hor 
ror  was  the  hilt  of  a  Highland  dirk  clearly 
relieved  against  the  white  night-dress, 
and  buried  apparently  in  the  young  lady's 
bosom. 

Beneath  the  head  of  the  young  lady 
was  passed  the  arm  of  Dr.  Vandyke,  who, 
divining  in  an  instant,  as  Ruthven  darted 
by  him,  what  had  happened, .  had  hast 
ened  to  the  chamber  and  the  bedside. 

"  O  doctor ! — what  is  this  ?  "  cried 
Lady  Brand. 

"Murder,  madam!"  was  the  hoarse 
reply. 

Lady  Brand,  with  a  low  cry,  extend 
ed  her  arms  toward  her  child,  tottered, 
and  would  have  fallen,  had  not  Colonel 
Brand,  who  hastily  entered  at  the  mo 
ment,  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

Such  was  the  spectacle  in  the  bridal 
chamber.  But  the  family  were  destined 
on  this  night  to  sup  full  on  horror. 

Colonel  Brand,  nearly  unmanned, 
bore  his  wife  to  a  couch,  and  had  just 
deposited  the  apparently  lifeless  form 
thereon,  when  violent  knocking  was 
heard  at  the  great  door  of  the  mansion, 
and  voices  loudly  demanded  admittance. 

A  shudder  ran  through  the  crowd, 
and  every  one  listened.  The  violent 
knocking  continued  —  there  was  in  its 
very  sound  something  urgent  and  terri 
ble —  and,  seizing  a  flambeau,  Colonel 
Brand,  ashy  pale  and  with  compressed 
lips,  hastened  down  the  staircase,  threw 
open  the  door,  and,  holding  the  flam 
beau  aloft,  demanded  the  occasion  of 
the  outcry. 

No  reply  was  necessary.  Borne  in 
the  arms  of  two  servants,  he  saw  the 
body  of  Edmund  Innis — the  face  deadly 
pale,  the  eyes  closed,  the  bosom  covered 
with  blood.  The  servants,  chancing  to 
pass  by  the  great  oak,  on  their  way  to 
the  quarters,  had  been  startled  by  a 
groan  —  fled  with  superstitious  fear  at 
first;  but,  summoning  courage,  had  re 


turned  to  the  spot,  and  discovered  Innis 
stretched  in  a  pool  of  blood  upon  the 
snow.  They  had  hastily  raised  him — 
borne  him  between  them  to  the  "great 
house,"  and  knocked  loudly  at  the  door 
to  summon  assistance. 

Colonel  Brand  uttered  a  low  groan, 
as  the  servants  explained  in  hurried 
words  how  and  where  they  had  found 
the  body.  He  could  only  gasp  out  an 
order  that  the  dying  man  should  be 
brought  in.  He  then  went  back,  wellnigh 
broken-hearted,  to  his  daughter's  cham 
ber. 

As  he  crossed  the  threshold,  he  stag 
gered  in  his  gait,  but  all  at  once  his  eyes 
expanded  with  a  sort  of  joy.  Lady 
Brand  was  holding  the  head  of  llonoria 
upon  her  bosom,  and  the  young  lady  was 
sobbing.  Dr.  Vandyke,  crouching  down, 
was  rapidly  applying  bandages  to  the 
wound.  On  the  floor,  whither  he  had 
hurled  it,  lay  a  hideous  object  —  the 
bloody  weapon  drawn  by  the  physician 
from  the  body  of  the  girl. 

It  had  not  entered  her  bosom,  toward 
which  the  murderous  hand  had  no  doubt 
directed  it — it  slipped,  or  the  hand  was 
unsteady;  the  point  had  only  pierced 
the  white  arm  beneath  the  shoulder.  A 
profuse  flow  of  blood  had  taken  place, 
but  the  wound  was  merely  dangerous, 
not  necessarily  mortal ;  and,  under  the 
skilful  hand  of  Dr.  Vandyke,  the  blood 
soon  ceased  to  flow. 

In  a  few  words,  Colonel  Brand  in 
formed  Dr.  Vandyke  of  the  discovery  of 
Innis's  body.  A  start  and  a  strange 
glance  greeted  the  intelligence  of  this 
additional  tragedy. 

"  The  devil  is  let  loose,  then !  "  he  mut 
tered,  in  his  harsh  metallic  voice — "  both 
fulfilled  to  the  letter!" 

And,  with  these  singular  words,  the 
physician  turned  and  said : 

"llonoria  is  easy  for  the  present. 
Where  is  he — Edmund  Innis  ?  " 

He  was  conducted  to  the  chamber, 
where  the  young  man  had  been  laid  up- 


THE  BRIDAL  CHAMBER. 


137 


on  a  bed,  nearly  but  not  quite  insensible 
"A  hideous  business,  truly!"  mutterec 
the  physician,  tearing  away  the  clothe: 
from  the  young  man's  breast,  and  ex 
amining  the  wound,  around  which  the 
blood  had  coagulated  in  the  intensely 
cold  night.  "  This  one  will  die,  I  think 
— the  lung  pierced — " 

lie  called  for  hot  water,  washed  the 
wound,  bandaged  it,  and,  giving  direc 
tions  to  an  old  nurse  to  remain  with  In- 
nis,  went  back  to  Honoria's  chamber. 
All  eyes  were  turned  toward  him,  in 
cluding  Honoria's,  who  breathed  regu 
larly  now. 

"  A  bad  wound,  but  not  mortal,"  he 
said ;  "  and  now  this  young  lady  must 
go  to  sleep.  All  will  please  leave  this 
chamber  but  Lady  Brand." 

The  agitated  group  disappeared,  Dr. 
Vandyke  going  out  last  with  Colonel 
Brand. 

As  the  door  closed,  their  eyes  met. 

"  The  meaning  of  all  this!  the  mean 
ing,  doctor  ? "  groaned  the  colonel, 
ghastly  pale. 

"Simple,"  was  the  reply.  "Your 
daughter  married,  as  I  told  you,  a  mad 
man." 

"Good  Heavens!  — and  — this  poor 
boy—?" 

"  They  fought,  or  the  madman  struck 
him  in  the  dark." 

"And—?" 

"  Will  he  die,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  " 

"In  three  days.  Honoria's  hurt  is 
slight,  comparatively.  The  boy's  is  mor 
tal.  I  give  him  three  days !" 

An  hour  afterward,  a  further  discov 
ery  was  made,  which  put  the  finishing 
touch  to  this  night  of  horrors.  What 
had  become  of  Lord  Ruthven  and  his 
body-servant?  Dr.  Vandyke  recalled 
the  violent  collision  with  Lord  Ruthven 
on  the  staircase,  as  he  rushed  toward 
the  front-door;  and  the  servants  who 
had  discovered  the  body  of  Innis,  re 
ported  that  they  had  seen  two  dark  fig 


ures—one  apparently  in  pursuit  of  the 
other— hastening  in  the  direction  of  the 
hills  skirting  the  river.  This  intelligence 
left  little  doubt  that  Lord  Ruthven  had 
attempted  or  committed  suicide  ;  and  a 
party,  supplied  with  torches,  followed  the 
footsteps,  plain  in  the  snow,  toward  the 
point  in  question.  The  steps  were  evi 
dently  those  of  Lord  Ruthven  and  his 
servant,  whose  ponderous  boots  had  left 
very  different  traces  from  those  of  his 
master. 

The  double    footprints  crossed   the 
snow-covered  expanse  of  the  lawn — led 
by  the  oak  where  the  combat  had  taken 
place  —  were  traced  on    the  other  side 
of  the  enclosure   around  the  grounds, 
through  the    melancholy  wilderness  of 
evergreens  beyond,  and  ceased  abruptly 
upon  the   summit   of   a  rock,    beneath 
which  the  river  —  hemmed  in  between 
high  banks — rushed  with  great  rapidity 
through  its  deep    and  narrow  channel. 
Here,  on  the  IrinTc  of  the  aicful  precipice 
— to  use  the  very  words  of  Lord  Ruth 
ven,  uttered  to  Fergus  at  Williamsburg 
— were  found  the  traces  apparently  of  a 
violent  struggle.    The  snow  was  trampled 
and  the  footprints  of  master  and  servant 
were  clearly  distinguishable,  intermingled 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  leave  little  doubt 
that  they  had  grappled  with  each  other. 
The  fact  was  plain  that  both  had  fallen 
or  thrown  themselves  into  the  stream ; 
and  this  proved  to  be  the  truth.     Two 
hundred  yards  down  the  bank,  the  bodies 
of  Lord  Ruthven  and  Fergus  were  dis 
covered — both  were  dead — the  arms  of 
the  clansman  clasping   his  chieftain,  as 
:hough  he  had  died  in  the  effort  to  save 
lira. 

This  was  all  that  was  ever  known, 
lad  the  two  committed  suicide  ?  Or,  in 
;he  struggle,  had  they  fallen  into  the 
rushing  stream,  and  been  drowned? 
There  was  no  means  of  determining  the 
question. 

The  bodies  were  borne  back  to  Ri- 
anna.     On  the  next  day  they  were  in- 


138 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


terred  side  by  side  in  the  graveyard  at 
tached  to  the  parish  church  some  miles 
distant.  Death  had  thus  not  separated 
them,  and  Fergus  lay  where  he  would 
have  chosen,  beside  his  master. 


LX. 

THE  STATEMENT  AND  THE  PAPER. 

NOTHING,  in  reference  to  the  events 
of  this  fearful  night,  between  the  mo 
ment  when  Honoria  retired  to  the  time 
when  her  screams  aroused  the  household, 
was  ever  accurately  known,  except  by 
three  persons.  These  persons  bound 
themselves,  it  is  said,  by  a  solemn  obli 
gation,  not  to  speak  upon  so  painful  and 
terrible  a  subject.  But,  in  spite  of  that 
fact,  a  rumor,  in  time,  began  to  creep 
about.  Some  indiscreet  listener  had  over 
heard,  perchance,  some  words  uttered  in 
supposed  privacy  ;  and,  link  by  link,  de 
tail  by  detail,  the  mystery  was,  or  pro 
fessed  to  be,  revealed. 

This  whispered  rumor,  for  want  of 
better  information,  is  here  given.  Of  its 
accuracy,  the  reader  will  form  his  own 
opinion. 

Honoria's  statement  was,  that  she  had 
retired,  on  her  wedding-night,  at  a  quar 
ter-past  eleven ;  a  fact  which  she  re 
membered,  as  she  had  glanced  at  the 
clock  in  the  hall  as  she  went  toward  the 
great  staircase.  She  was,  at  this  hour, 
completely  exhausted,  .and  nearly  sunk 
down  from  pure  weakness  and  agitation, 
as  her  bridesmaids  assisted  her  in  mak 
ing  her  night-toilet.  The  young  ladies 
had  then  left  her  apartment ;  she  retired 
to  bed,  fell  into  a  morbid  state,  half 
sleeping,  half  waking;  but  was  suddenly 
aroused  by  a  horrible  breathing,  appar 
ently  issuing  from  behind  the  curtains 
of  her  bed,  identical  with  that  heard  on 
the  night  when  she  had  performed  the 
ceremony  of  eating  the  dumb-cake,  This 
sound,  she  stated,  filled  her  Avith  such 
fright  that  she  nearly  fainted,  and  only 


remembered  what  followed,  as  human 
beings  remember  dreams.  She  saw,  or 
fancied  she  saw,  the  fire  slowly  die  away, 
and  darkness  invade  the  chamber.  The 
only  light  now  was  that  of  the  blood-red 
moon,  which  shone  through  the  western 
window,  throwing  upon  the  opposite 
wall  the  shadow  of  one  of  the  boughs 
of  the  great  oak  opposite  the  window ; 
and  this  shadow,  as  before,  assumed  the 
appearance  of  a  gigantic  arm,  the  hand 
grasping  a  dagger. 

From  this  moment  she  recalled  little, 
and  that  as  a  sort  of  dream,  full  of  ter 
ror.  Lord  Kuthven  seemed  to  stand  at 
her  bedside,  his  face  as  pale  as  death,  his 
lips  writhing,  and  his  eyes  fearfully 
bright.  In  his  hand  he  grasped  a  dagger, 
such  as  she  had  seen  in  the  dumb-cake 
dream,  and  exclaiming,  in  a  hollow  tone, 
"  False  !  false  !  false  !  "  he  had  crouched, 
lifted  his  arm ;  the  weapon  had  gleamed 
in  the  red  moonlight,  and  a  hot  iron 
seemed  suddenly  to  pass  through  her 
shoulder,  whereupon  she  had  lost  con 
sciousness,  only  to  be  aroused  by  the  en 
trance  of  her  mother. 

Such  was  the  narrative  attributed  to 
the  young  lady,  and  there  was  little  rea 
son  to  discredit  it,  with  the  exception  of 
the  asserted  identity  between  the  real 
poniard  which  had  inflicted  the  wound, 
and  that  seen  in  the  dream  on  the  night 
of  the  dumb-cake.  That  Honoria  be 
lieved  the  two  to  be  identical  in  appear 
ance  is  certain.  When  the  weapon  was 
shown  to  her  she  swooned,  and,  as  soon 
as  she  opened  her  eyes,  begged  those 
around  her  to  remove  it,  as  she  had  seen 
it  before.  It  is  certain,  at  least,  that 
this  idea  of  the  identity  of  the  real  and 
fanciful  weapon  had  taken  strong  pos 
session  of  the  young  lady's  mind ;  and 
a  paper,  discovered  in  a  drawer  of  the 
chamber  occupied  by  Lord  Ruthven, 
directed  to  Colonel  Brand,  is  said  to 
have  strongly  corroborated  this  strange 
idea. 

To  this  paper — which  was  the  same 


THE   STATEMENT  AND   THE 


139 


shown  by  Lord  Euthven  to  Dr.  Vandyk 
— we  now  pass.  For  reasons,  of  which 
he  declared  himself,  in  brief  words,  to 
be  the  best  judge,  Colonel  Brand,  after 
reading  this  paper,  proceeded  at  once  to 
destroy  it  by  holding  it  in  the  flame  of  a 
candle  until  it  was  reduced  to  ashes.  He 
never  afterward  alluded  to  it  to  any 
member  of  his  household;  but,  either 
through  himself  or  through  Dr.  Van 
dyke,  its  purport  became  known,  or  pro 
fessed  to  be  known.  Here,  as  before, 
recourse  must  be  had  to  rumor — that 
ambiguous  but  often  accurate  version  of 
secret  occurrences  which  so  frequently 
creeps  about. 

It  was  said  that,  in  this  paper,  Lord 
Euthven  sought  to  vindicate  himself 
in  advance  from  the  charge  of  blood- 
thirstiness,  in  the  event  of  the  commis 
sion  by  himself  of  a  terrible  crime.  In 
order  to  thus  relieve  his  memory  of  a 
portion  at  least  of  the  guilt,  he  presented 
a  history  of  his  life.  He  declared  him 
self  to  be  the  representative  of  an  an 
cient  Scottish  family,  which  had  pos 
sessed,  time  out  of  mind,  the  fearful  gift 
of  the  "  second-sight  " — a  faculty  which 
enabled  them  to  look  into  the  future,  and 
thus  foresee  the  events  of  their  own 
lives.  The  consciousness  of  this  fatal 
gift  had,  he  declared,  afforded  him,  from 
his  earliest  years,  unspeakable  wretched 
ness.  His  character  had  been  naturally 
genial  and  cheerful ;  this  fearful  faculty 
had  made  him  harsh,  irritable,  and  mel 
ancholy.  He  had  struggled  long  and 
obstinately  to  divert  his  mind  of  all  be 
lief  in  it — had  striven  to  laugh  at  it  as 
an  absurd  superstition,  instilled  into  him 
by  the  old  Highland  crone  who  had 
nursed  him,  and  told  him  frightful 
stories  from  his  cradle  ;  but  all  was  vain. 
The  fearful  proof  was  there  to  falsify  his 
hopes.  In  his  dreams  he  bad  foreseen 
events  which  duly  and  literally  came  to 
pass,  in  spite  of  every  effort  which  Tie 
made  to  prevent  their  occurrence.  This 
was  the  terrible  part.  He  could  not  re 


sist  this  secret  fate,  driving  him  to  fulfil 
the  visions.  Of  this  statement,  Lord 
Euthven  presented  several  instances. 
He  had  had  a  favorite  hound.  A  vision 
told  him  that  the  hound  would  perish  by 
his  hand,  and  to  avoid  this  painful  event 
he  had  presented  the  animal  to  u  neigh 
boring  friend,  with  the  injunction  to 
keep  him  out  of  his  (Lord  Euthven's) 
sight.  The  hound  had,  nevertheless, 
perished  by  his  own  knife.  He  was 
deer-hunting — the  animal  was  driven  to 
bay,  and  he  had  dismounted  and  thrown 
himself  upon  the  stag,  struggling  with 
the  dogs,  couteau  de  chaase  in  hand,  and 
struck  at  his  throat,  Instead  of  the 
deer's  throat,  the  knife  entered  the  breast 
of  one  of  the  dogs.  It  was  his  favorite, 
who,  hearing  the  cry  of  his  old  compan 
ions  on  the  hills,  had  joined  in  the  hunt, 
and  thus  met  his  death,  in  accordance 
with  the  vision. 

A  second  instance  was  similar.  He 
had  a  riding-horse  of  great  beauty  and 
speed,  though  so  violent  at  times  that  lie 
was  dangerous.  He  was  his  favorite  of 
the  whole  stud  ;  and  when  he  one  night 
had  a  vision,  in  which  he  saw  himself 
shoot  the  animal  dead,  he  awoke  de 
pressed  and  sorrowful.  This  time  he 
swore  to  disappoint  the  devil ;  and, 
without  delay,  sent  the  animal  by  a  re 
liable  groom  to  an  English  nobleman,  his 
friend,  residing  more  than  three  hun 
dred  miles  distant,  requesting  him  to  ac- 
ept  the  horse.  A  note  of  thanks  for  so 
ine  an  animal  came  back.  Euthven  for- 
•ot  the  incident ;  but  a  year  afterward 
was  visiting  in  Perthshire,  when,  in  a 
paddock  attached  to  the  mansion  of  his 
host,  he  saw  the  horse,  dragging  a  groom 
by  the  bridle  and  pawing  at  him. 
Whence  had  the  animal  come?  he 

asked.     The  reply  was  that  Lord  

was  coming  for  the  hunting-season,  and 
had  sent  this  horse  to  await  his  arrival. 
This  explanation  had  scarcely  been  giv 
en,  when  the  groom  was  thrown  to  the 
earth,  and  the  animal  tore  him  with  his 


140 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


teeth,  and  rose  ou  his  hind-legs  to  paw 
him  to  death.  Ruthven  was  jnst  going 
out  grouse-shooting,  and  had  his  fowling- 
piece  in  his  hand.  It  was  a  choice  be 
tween  the  life  of  the  man  and  the  life  of 
the  horse.  He  discharged  the  contents 
of  his  fowling-piece  into  the  animal  be 
hind  the  shoulder — he  rolled  over,  tore 
up  the  grass  with  his  teeth,  and  expired. 
The  man  was  saved ;  but  Ruthven  re 
turned  to  the  house,  bade  his  friend  fare 
well,  and  went  back  sorrowfully  to  his 
castle.  He  had  fulfilled  the  second  vi 
sion. 

This  had  made  him  wellnigh  lose  all 
hope,  and  surrender  himself  to  despair. 
But  a  blessed  discontinuance  of  the  vi 
sions  succeeded.  For  many  years  he  slept 
tranquilly — saw  nothing — and  began  to 
hope  that  Heaven  had  mercifully  ex 
empted  him  from  further  torture.  The 
visions  came  no  more;  he  attained  the 
age  of  twenty-five — when  all  at  once  he 
began  to  see  vaguely  the  forms  of  a  young 
man  and  a  young  lady,  in  connection 
with  whom  some  terrible  event  was  to 
occur,  in  which  event  he  was  to  act  the 
chief  part.  Filled  with  horror  at  this 
vague  (and  more  frightful  because  vague) 
vision,  he  determined  to  leave  Scotland ; 
and  that  for  a  double  reason.  The  pop 
ular  belief  in  connection  with  the  fearful 
gift  of  second-sight  was,  that  those  af 
flicted  with  it  had  only  to  leave  their 
own  land  and  travel,  to  lose  the  faculty. 
This  was  the  main  reason  inducing  him 
to  resolve  upon  a  prolonged  absence  from 
Scotland.  Another  was  to  seek  in  travel, 
society,  cards,  dissipation,  if  necessary, 
relief  from  his  frightful  visions.  Still  a 
third  reason  for  visiting  the  Continent 
was  to  allay  a  foreboding,  which  had  for 
some  time  chilled  him — the  fancy  that, 
perhaps,  after  all,  he  was  simply  a  per 
son  of  unsound  mind — the  apparent  ful 
filment  of  his  visions,  in  the  cases  of  the 
dog  and  the  horse,  being  only  coinci 
dences.  In  accordance  with  the  resolu 
tion  formed,  he  left  Scotland,  went  to 


Paris,   plunged    into    gay    society,    and 
found  his  visions  disappear. 

The  question  of  his  sanity  remained ; 
and  he  laid  his  "  case,"  without  reserva 
tion  or  concealment  of  any  description, 
before  some  of  the  most  celebrated  phy 
sicians  of  Europe,  who  declared,  over 
their  own  names,  in  a  written  paper, 
that  Lord  Ruthven  was,  in  their  opinion, 
a  person  of  somewhat  morbid  and  excit 
able  organization,  but,  in  point  of  sanity 
or  insanity  of  mind,  no  more  insane  than 
themselves.  This  had  proved  an  enor 
mous  relief  to  him.  Then,  he  was  sim 
ply  "  excitable  " — torturing  himself  with 
"  morbid  "  fancies  ;  the  second-sight  was 
a  chimera !  He  would,  therefore,  re 
turn  home,  and  laugh  at  his  visions. 
This  resolution  was  followed  by  a  return 
to  Scotland.  For  a  brief  time,  no  vi 
sions  disturbed  him  ;  but  then  they  re 
turned  in  a  more  aggravated  form  than 
before.  The  vagueness  had  no\v  quite  dis 
appeared — all  was  clear-cut,  and  distinct. 
He  saw  a  young  man  and  a  young  lady 
whose  blood  was  to  be  shed  by  himself. 
The  young  lady  was  to  be  his  bride — the 
young  gentleman  was  his  unsuccessful 
rival.  They  were  to  inhabit  a  region  di 
versified  by  mountains — those  of  Scot 
land,  apparently.  The  tragedy  was  to 
grow  out  of  the  preference  of  the  young 
lady  for  his  poorer  rival.  She  was  to 
prove  false  to  him  by  granting,  on  his 
very  wedding-night,  a  stolen  and  crimi 
nal  interview  to  this  rival.  They  were 
to  fight  in  the  snow — the  rival  was  to 
fall;  then,  he,  Ruthven,  was  to  go  to  the 
bridal  chamber,  strike  his  Highland  dirk 
into  the  bosom  of  the  bride ;  and  after 
ward  commit  self-destruction  by  throw 
ing  himself  from  a  precipice,  crowned 
with  evergreens,  into  a  swollen  torrent. 

Such  was  to  be  his  fate — this  was  his 
future  :  love,  murder,  and  suicide ! 

In  unutterable  horror,  he  determined 
to  fly  from  Scotland,  which  he  supposed 
to  be  the  scene  of  the  future  tragedy — 
for  the  precipice,  the  evergreens,  the 


EPILOGUE. 


141 


swollen  torrent,  all  seemed  to  indicate, 
with  sufficient  exactness,  the  locality. 
This  time  he  resolved  that  he  would 
cheat  Fate  itself  of  its  prey :  he  would 
leave  the  accursed  scene  of  future  crime 
forever.  An  opportunity  to  do  so  unex 
pectedly  presented  itself.  His  friend 
Lord  Botetourt  was  appointed  Governor 
of  Virginia  —  beyond  the  ocean  was 
safety.  He  at  once  applied  for  permis 
sion  to  join  the  suite  of  the  new  govern 
or — readily  received  it ;  sailed  for  Vir 
ginia  ;  and  breathed  freely  once  more, 
with  the  delightful  consciousness  that  he 
had  outrun  the  haunting  Fate. 

His  comfort  was  short-lived.  Riding 
one  day  at  full  gallop  along  Gloucester 
Street,  in  Williamsburg,  his  horse  had 
shied  suddenly ;  Jie  was  unseated  and  fell 
— losing  his  senses  by  the  fall.  When  he 
regained  consciousness,  he  saw  before 
him  the  young  gentleman  seen  in  his  vi 
sion  in  /Scotland  !  The  sight  of  the  youth 
overcame  him  with  horror ;  and  he  had 
but  one  hope — that  this  was  a  coinci 
dence  only;  that  he  had  met  with  this 
young  gentleman,  Mr.  Innis,  in  Europe, 
and  hence  the  recognition  of  him.  He 
had  accordingly  questioned  him,  and  dis 
covered  that  no  such  meeting  could  have 
taken  place,  as  Mr.  Innis  had  never  visit 
ed  Europe — thus  he  was  certain  that 
they  had  never  before  met.  Upon  this 
discovery,  his  resolution  was  promptly 
taken.  As  Virginia  was  to  be  the  scene 
of  his  crime,  he  would  instantly  leave 
the  country,  as  he  had  left  Scotland  ;  and 
he  gave  prompt  orders  to  have  his  trunks 
gotten  ready  for  his  departure.  The  de 
parture  had  not  taken  place.  First,  there 
was  a  difficulty  about  a  vessel ;  then  the 
governor  begged  him  to  delay  ;  then  Mr. 
Innis  left  Williamsburg,  and  all  danger 
for  the  moment  was  plainly  over. 

The  second  identification  followed. 
At  the  governor's  assembly  he  saw  enter 
the  room  the  young  lady  of  his  vision — 
his  bride  and  victim  to  be.  Thereat  his 
horror  had  been  overwhelming.  He 


sought  to  avoid  even  an  introduction  to 
her ;  but  circumstances  rendered  it  ne 
cessary ;  he  had  danced  with  her,  vis 
ited  her,  conceived  an  ardent  passion  for 
her ;  and  thus  completely  lost  the  power 
of  leaving  her.  He  had  not  sufficient 
strength  to  do  so  ;  but  soothed  his  agita 
tion,  at  thought  of  the  vision,  by  swear 
ing  that  he  would  put  an  end  to  his  own 
life,  before  he  would  do  harm  to  the 
young  girl  whom  he  loved  so  dearly. 
Thenceforward  things  took  their  course. 
He  proposed  for  Ilonoria's  hand,  was  ac 
cepted  by  her  father,  the  time  was  fixed 
— and,  to  crown  his  happiness,  Mr.  Innis, 
the  unsuccessful  lover  of  the  young  lady, 
was  perfectly  resigned  to  his  fate,  and 
about  to  leave  the  country.  Thus,  the 
hated  visions  were  a  cheat — second-sight 
a  farce,  after  all — he  would  be  happily 
married,  do  harm  to  no  one,  and,  in  the 
sunshine  of  love,  forget  all  his  past  sor 
rows. 

But,  if  his  Fate  still  hunted  him  down 
— if  some  hidden  hand  drove  him  on  to 
conceive  the  possibility  of  such  crimes 
as  he  had  seen  himself  commit,  he  would 
stop  on  the  threshold,  perish  by  his  own 
hand ;  and  this  paper,  addressed  to  Colo 
nel  Brand,  would  be  the  explanation  and 
vindication  of  the  tragedy. 

Such  were  the  alleged  contents  of 
Lord  Ruthven's  narrative.  How  the 
terrible  sequel  was  brought  about  has 
been  recorded. 


EPILOGUE. 

FOR  three  months  the  life  of  Innis 
seemed  suspended  by  a  hair,  which  the 
hand  of  a  child — the  least  breath — would 
break. 

His  wound  then  began  slowly  to  heal, 
and,  in  the  last  days  of  May,  he  rose, 
pale,  thin,  and  tottering,  from  his  bed, 
entering  the  world  thus  once  more,  as  it 
were,  from  the  postern  of  the  grave. 


142 


DOCTOR  VANDYKE. 


HoDoria  had  completely  recovered 
from  her  wound  sometime  before;  and 
the  terrible  events  of  her  wedding-night 
began  to  relax  their  painful  hold  upon 
her  mind.  She  looked  back  now  to  those 
events  as  to  a  fearful  dream,  from  which 
she  had  awakened  ;  and  the  May  sun 
shine  saw  the  roses  once  more  blooming 
in  her  cheeks. 

That  she  and  Innis  were  married  in 
due  time,  we  need  scarcely  assure  the 
reader.  Of  the  will  of  Colonel  Seaton 
there  was  no  question  at  all.  Colonel 
Brand  had  duly  recorded  it  in  the  proper 
court,  surrendered  Rivanna  to  Innis. 
gave  him  the  hand  of  Honoria — and  all 
lived  in  peace  and  harmony  under  a  sin 
gle  roof. 

On  the  night  of  Honoria's  marriage 
to  Innis,  Miss  Lou  Brand  bestowed  her 
queenly  hand  upon  Mr.  Phil  Cary.  It 
was  a  happy  double  wedding,  and  even 
Mrs.  Cary,  who  was  present,  and  in  the 
seat  of  honor,  was  overjoyed  at  the  hap 
piness  of  her  son. 

Side  by  side,  near  the  married  cou 
ples,  stood  two  persons  who  have  fre^- 
quently  appeared  in  this  history — Meta 
and  Dr.  Vandyke. 

With  the  termination  of  the  tragedy, 
so  long  overshadowing  Rivanna,  Meta 
had  begun  to  recover  her  strength,  and 
to  regain  the  roses  in  her  cheeks.  It 
seemed  a  miracle,  this  return  to  life,  and, 
what  was  far  better  than  life,  the  blessed 
light  of  reason.  No  more,  now,  a  sub 
tle,  scheming,  mad  girl,  burnt  up  by  a 


morbid  jealousy,  but  a  gentle  and  tender 
woman,  moved  by  all  sweet  influences 
and  kindly  emotions,  Meta  stood  beside 
Honoria,  as  one  of  her  bridesmaids,  smil 
ing  and  beautiful — in  her  dark  curls  the 
spring  flowers  she  thought  she  should 
never  more  see. 

And  Dr.  Vandyke — the  cynical,  bit 
ter,  large-hearted,  profound,  and  clown 
ish  personage — Dr.  Vandyke  had  come 
all  the  way  from  Williamsbnrg  to  be 
present  at  the  wedding,  which  he  had 
contemplated  with  a  grin,  and  spiced 
with  an  allusion  to  Mrs.  Snuffers,  a  ven 
erable  personage,  whom  he  believed  to 
be  bent  on  marrying  him.  As  the  night 
drew  on,  and  the  long  hours  fled  by  like 
birds  into  the  darkness,  the  wit  and 
satire  of  Dr.  Vandyke  sparkled  more  and 
more. 

Beside  the  great  punch-bowl,  and  oc 
casionally  waving  the  ladle  around  his 
head,  he  resembled  some  eccentric  gob 
lin,  and  there  was  something  weird 
about  his  laughter.  But,  toward  mid 
night  this  merriment  disappeared — the 
face  of  this  strange  man  grew  deeply 
sorrowful.  With  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  great  clock,  whose  hand  approached 
twelve,  the  doctor  fell  into  a  reverie,  and 
sighed. 

Phil  Cary  laid  a  hand  upon  his  shoul 
der,  and  cried : 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  doctor? " 

Dr.  Vandyke  uttered  a  deeper  sigh 
than  before. 

"  Poor  Ruthven  !  "  he  muttered. 


THE      END. 


COOPER'S 

LEATHER-STOCKING  NOVELS. 


"  TlIE  ENDURING  MONUMENTS  OF  FENIMORE  COOPER  ARE  HIS  WORKS.  WlIILE  THE 
LOVE  OF  COUNTRY  CONTINUES  TO  PREVAIL,  HIS  MEMORY  WILL  EXIST  IN  THE  HEARTS  OF 
THE  PEOPLE.  SO  TRULY  PATRIOTIC  AND  AMERICAN  THROUGHOUT,  THEY  SHOULD  FIND 

A  PLACE  IN  EVERY  AMERICAN'S  LIBRARY." — Daniel  Webster. 


SPLENDIDLY-ILLUSTRATED  POPULAR  EDITION 

OF 


WORLD-FAMOUS 


Leather-Stocking  Romances, 

D.  APPLETON  &  Co.  announce  that  they  have  commenced  the  publication  of  J. 
Fenimore  Cooper's  Novels,  in  a  form  designed  for  general  popular  circulation.     The 
Series  will  begin  with  the  famous  "  Leather-Stocking  Talcs,"  five  in  number,  and 
'  will  be  published  in  the  following  order,  at  intervals  of  about  a  month  : 

I.  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans. 
II.  The  Deerslayer.  IV.  The  Pioneers. 

PI.  The  Pathfinder.  V.  The  Prairie. 

This  edition  of  the  "Leather-Stocking  Tales"  will  be  printed  in  handsome  octavo 
volumes,  from  new  stereotype  plates,  each  volume  superbly  and  fully  illustrated  with 
entirely  new  designs  by  the  distinguished  artist,  F.  0.  C.  Barley,  and  bound  m  an 
attractive  paper  cover.  Price,  75  cents  per  volume. 

Heretofore  there  has  been  no  edition  of  the  acknowledged  head  of  American 
romancists  suitable  for  general  popular  circulation,  and  hence  the  new  is 
famous  novels  will  be  welcomed  by  the  generation  of  readers  that  have  sprung  u] 
since  Cooper  departed  from  us.     As  time  progresses,  the  character,  genius,  a] 
value  of  the  Cooper  romances  become  more  widely  recognized  ;  he  is  now  accepte 
as  the  great  classic  of  our  American  literature,  and  his  books  as  the  prose  epics 
our  early  history. 

D.  APPLETON  &  Co.,  PUBLISHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


POPEAE  HOTELS,  BY  fflUA 

COMETH  UP  AS  A  FLOWER, 

8vo.     Paper  covers.     Price,  60  cents;    12 mo,  cloth,  $1  50 

NOT  WISELY,  BUT  TOO  WELL, 

8vo.     Paper  covers.      Price,  60  cents ;  12mo,  cloth,          "        1  50 

RED  AS  A  ROSE  IS  SHE, 

8vo.     Paper  covers.     Price,  60  cents;  12mo,  cloth.         "         1  50 

GOOD-BYE,   SWEETHEART! 

Paper.     75  cents;  12 mo,  cloth,  "         l  50 

"  Good-bye,  Sweetheart !  "  is  certainly  one  of  the  brightest  and 
most  entertaining  novels  that  has  appeared  for  rnauy  years.  The 
heroine  of  the  story,  Lenore,  is  really  an  original  character,  drawn 
only  as  a  woman  could  draw  her,  who  had  looked  deeply  into  the 
mysterious  recesses  of  the  feminine  heart.  She  is  a  creation  to 
tally  beyond  the  scope  of  a  man's  pen,  unless  it  were  the  pen  of 
Shakespeare.  Her  beauty,  her  wilfulness,  her  caprice,  her  love, 
and  her  sorrow,  are  depicted  with  marvellous  skill,  and  invested 
with  an  interest  of  which  the  reader  nover  becomes  weary.  Misa 
Broughton,  in  this  work,  has  made  an  immense  advance  on  her 
other  stories,  clever  as  those  are.  Tier  sketches  of  scenery  and  of 
interiors,  though  brief,  are  eminently  graphic,  and  the  dialogue  is- 
always  sparkling  and  witty.  The  incidents,  though  sometimes 
startling  and  unexpected,  are  very  natural,  and  the  characters  and 
story,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  strongly  enchain  the  atten 
tion  of  the  reader. 


Opinions  of  the  Press  on  "  Eed  as  a  Eose  is  She." 

From  the  Boston  Traveller. 

"  After  reading  such  a  work,  one  can  no  more  read  an  ordinary  book  than  one 
could  enjoy  a  lunch  on  dry  bread  immediately  after  having  dined  on  curry  and  Chili, 
washed  down  with  burnt  brandy." 

From  the  Baltimore  Gazette. 

"  The  cleverest  novel  of  the  season.  The  characters  are  few,  but  remarkably 
well  drawn ;  the  dialogue  fresh,  crisp,  and  sparkling,  and  the  incidents  thoroughly 
natural." 


Either  of  the  above  sent/ree,  by  mail,  to  any  part  of  the  United  States. 


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